


Iron Coin Chronicles: The Silver Summer

by Kylia



Series: Iron Coin Chronicles [6]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Gen, Post Alternate Season 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22551490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylia/pseuds/Kylia
Summary: Freshman year of college is over, and ADAM is defeated, the Initiative ended. But the consequences of these events are only beginning to be felt. Meanwhile, Xander Harris still has the Coin, and still seeks to use it to help his friends navigate the plans Fate has for them - while Fate comes up with a newer, far more dire plan to rid themselves of the nuisance he represents. The Jester is of no mood to see his new favorite toy fall just yet - and so it is time for the Silver Summer to begin.
Relationships: Cordelia Chase/Xander Harris, Drusilla/Spike (BtVS), Faith Lehane/Amy Madison, Pre-Tara Maclay/Willow Rosenberg, Riley Finn/Buffy Summers
Series: Iron Coin Chronicles [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/71057
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	1. Installment 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Buffy.
> 
> No, your eyes are not deceiving you. Iron Coin Chronicles is BACK, baby!
> 
> I was actually planning to get this written, or at least started, back in September or October, but for various reasons, I didn't end up doing that. I did have to take a long break after ending ICC Season 2, which really did take a lot out of me, but I'm back and ready to do the Silver Summer.
> 
> Now, unlike the between Seasons 1 and 2 Interquel, Silent Summer, Silver Summer will not be one chapter in total. I can't say how many chapters it will be, but as with splitting ICC "Episodes" into two chapters, I don't have the time or capacity to really write the longer bits I used to.
> 
> Regardless, as I ease back into the Coinverse, these chapters won't even be as long as the chapters that were "part" of a latter-parts of Season 2 Episode. Probably around 4-5k a pop, at a guess. Maybe more, maybe less, depending on things.
> 
> Thanks are, once again, extended to Starway Man and Deiticlast for their assistance as beta-readers and sounding boards.

Iron Coin Chronicles: The Silver Summer

By Kylia

Installment 1

**May 14th, 2000**

**Private Room, Sunnydale Public Library**

"So, anyway, Colonel McNamara has been relieved of his command over the Initiative," Riley said. "Dr. Angleman assures me that the people behind the project have been convinced that it's simply not worthwhile or feasible, to continue on like we have. Weaponizing demons and vampires - hostile sub-terrestrials - proved to be... bad idea." He could have told them that after a few encounters with what he'd even then still called HSTs without a hint of irony - but no one had told him that was the plan.

"That is - that is gratifying to hear, though I cannot say I feel certain these individuals are telling you the truth." Giles said carefully. "Regardless, the Council has told me they have spoken to their people at Number 10 Downing Street - and they have asked that the Prime Minister personally convey their dissatisfaction - and his - regarding the Initiative to the President."

"All well and good, yes - but just how much effect do you expect that to have, Mr. Giles?" Wesley asked, with a raised eyebrow. "Since the end of the Cold War, the American government has largely proceeded to pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist. Why would this be any different?"

"Hey, Brits, diss America on your own time, okay? Or I'll toss your tea in the ocean, do the Boston Tea Party all over again." Faith said, grinning a bit as she said that. She sounded both serious, and yet not - but then again, as far as Riley could tell, Faith was always like that. When she and Buffy had gotten up from their almost coma-like state, she'd started making jokes about the ways the Slayers before her and Buffy had died. Which is apparently what their entire coma had been - endless visions of every death of all the countless Slayers before them. 

She'd pretended it was nothing, but Riley could tell that Faith was covering. Not only because of his own training in the field of psychology - he hadn't been Dr. Walsh's psych class TA for nothing - but because he'd seen that look in her eyes before. Seen it in the eyes of war veterans who'd been through the kind of things that led to PTSD. 

Riley didn't think Faith was that far gone, not exactly, but he couldn't imagine that any of the people here didn't have traces of it, in one form or another. Not after half the things he'd heard about them going through.

Riley sometimes wondered if he himself was dealing with PTSD, or something like it too. Events within the Initiative after ADAM had let loose all the demon captives hadn't gone anywhere near as badly as they could have, thanks in large part to Buffy and Faith, but...

They'd been bad enough, and he had already had nightmares about it. Mild ones, true, but still. 

But Riley also knew the dangers of self-diagnosis. 

Unfortunately, there wasn't a therapist available he could talk this out with. None that were cleared to speak about this within the military, and he couldn't talk about a classified project with a civilian. 

Well, okay, _more_ civilians.

Buffy had also made light of her experiences in the coma, though differently than Faith - but he could pick up that she too had been affected. His girlfriend was... a little less bright, a little more withdrawn. Just a touch, just a hint. But it was there. Buffy always seemed to prefer to keep part of herself from him, to herself, but now it seemed more acute.

All he could do was be there for her.

In a perfect world, she too - she, and Faith, and everyone else could go to a therapist, work through all the sh- the stuff they'd all been through. How many times had all of them nearly died, or had their minds invaded by magic, or otherwise been through things that would drive most normal people insane?

Probably way more than he was comfortable contemplating.

"Don't even think about it, Faith," Wesley said flatly, then shook his head. "Still, we should get back on point." 

"Thank you," Riley nodded, and then he let out a sigh. "There's a lot going on, and most of it way above my clearance level, unfortunately. But the long and short of what I was told, really, is that the top brass is still unhappy about the idea of leaving the fight against demons and vampires - or HSTs, as I'm still supposed to call them - just to you guys. But until the people in charge of this charlie-foxtrot have a more suitable plan to deal with the enemy, they've decided the Hellmouth is safe in your hands. I think I convinced them that they shouldn't try to interfere again." He looked to Buffy. "No jostling your elbow. Or anything like that."

"That's good news, at least. And no one will be after Willow?" Buffy asked, letting out a small sigh.

"No. None of you will have to worry about being kidnapped or arrested or anything, no. I've been given assurances by the person in charge of the project." Riley didn't know the name of the man in charge, nor exactly what position he held. He had spoken to him though, by video conference, albeit briefly. Dr. Angleman had said the man with no name was part of the Defense Intelligence Agency, though that didn't make a lot of sense to Riley - but then again, it was hardly Riley's area of expertise. The man was a civilian, though, not an officer, so he was obviously with the Department of Defense in some fashion. 

"Can we trust him?" Cordelia asked, and Riley hesitated a moment, not sure how to answer that as she barrelled on. "I mean, let's face it, the Initiative isn't really doing much to make me trust my own government, if they can put a psycho like Walsh in charge and come up with a plan as brain-dead as making ADAM in the first place."

Riley opened his mouth to answer her question, but now Buffy interrupted.

"It doesn't matter if we can trust them or not. If anyone comes gunning for Willow, or anyone else, we'll stop them." She said with unbreakable certainty, looking around the table. "Besides..." she added, "if the Initiative big shots really are done trying to turn 'HSTs' into weapons, they've got nothing to come back here for." Riley could hear Buffy's air quotes around HSTs, even if she didn't make the motion itself. 

"Well, Angleman deleted all of Dr. Walsh's research data. There might be backups somewhere, or at least part of them, but I think the man I spoke to was being honest when he said all demon research operations have been terminated." Riley said. He sighed. 

"And what about you?" Buffy asked, reaching over towards him. Riley held her hand as she offered it, taking a deep breath.

"I'm currently on suspension, pending a review of all my actions and decisions." Riley admitted. "At the very least, I was promised that I wouldn't be going to Fort Leavenworth over this, but that's about all I was promised." Of course, he could still go to some other, much more secret prison. A black site, somewhere. But he didn't think it was likely. Or maybe he just hoped.

"After you saved so many people?" Buffy exclaimed, confused.

"I broke the rules, Buffy. Lots of them. The end doesn’t justify the means - I disobeyed direct orders, misused military equipment - and the system can't work if the chain of command doesn't mean something." Riley shook his head. "I'd say the odds are fifty-fifty they let me stay in the military."

"Figures - you put yourself out there to save their asses, and your head ends up on the chopping block," Faith rolled her eyes.

"It's a little more complicated than that," Riley said, feeling a need to defend the rules that could be used to eject him from the service.

He hoped it didn't come to that. The Initiative had been... complicated, but Riley didn't want his career in the Army to end here. One way or another, being a soldier had been his dream since childhood. It didn't work out like seven year old Riley Finn had thought it would, true, but it was still his duty, and - he liked being in the Army. The structure, the system, the feeling like being part of something greater than just himself. 

It was his life. Had been his life for years. He'd always figured he'd wear the uniform and defend the country to the best of his ability until he had to retire.

But thanks to this particular tour of duty, he _had_ violated some pretty important rules. Doing the right thing wasn't necessarily a great defense, when facing a military tribunal to account for your actions. When he'd told Graham about being put on suspension, his friend had referenced an episode from one of his favorite sci-fi TV shows - Babylon 5. Riley had seen a few episodes, but it wasn't his favorite. Still, the bit Graham had mentioned was funny, if hitting a bit too close to home in his current situation. 

Captain Sheridan, who had ended the illegal regime of the tyrant President Clark - but only by leading the starships of Earth against the planet in question, splitting the military of humanity in two. Right, yes, but messy. Apparently, one of the politicians had told him that half the generals in the military wanted Sheridan given a medal, and the other half wanted him shot.

And her first - not serious - proposal was a compromise - give him a medal, then shoot him.

Riley didn't think a firing squad was in his future, nor a medal, but he did wonder if his final fate was going to be some sort of compromise - honorable discharge, maybe, or something along those lines. It would be better than dishonorable discharge, which meant no veterans benefits and a civilian criminal record dogging his heels for the rest of his life. 

"Sounds pretty simple to me, but you're the soldier-boy, not me." Faith threw up her hands for a moment in mock-surrender, dragging Riley out of his thoughts.

"It might take them a while to come to a decision. In the meantime," Riley squeezed Buffy's hand, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," Buffy smiled for a moment, then she looked around the table. "Anything else? Amy - how - how is Drusilla doing?"

"Better, for a given value of the word," Amy said softly. "That’s mostly Spike's work, though. She's no longer actively wanting to kill herself, or trying to starve herself into a hunger coma. So I call that a win."

"Take what you can," Buffy nodded. "Xander, did Willy have anything to say?"

Xander shook his head, "He's happy the Initiative is gone - they were taking away all his customers. But he's saying all the vamps and demons left after... well, after you turned God knows how many of them into chop suey? They’re laying low - for now." Xander chuckled at his little joke. 

"That's summer in Sunnyhell for you, though, isn't it?" Willow grinned. 

Riley couldn't understand how they could take it all so lightly - but then, maybe that was just how they were still sane, after everything these people had been through.

The psychologist in him really wished he could turn them all into a case study about handling the sorts of extreme stresses they'd been under, but he could think of at least five major ethical issues with him being the one to do it, among other concerns. Plus, they'd never agree to it anyway.

Still. He had to admire their ability to handle it. Before meeting them, he hadn't had to know the plural of apocalypse. Or that a plural was even _possible_.

**May 23rd, 2000**

**Cemetery, Sunnydale**

Buffy had planned to do a joint patrol with Faith here tonight. Usually they covered different areas, but once in a while, they partnered up to really put the fear of Slayers into the local vampire population.

But then Faith had gone off to L.A. with Wesley for some reason. Amy hadn't shared many details - something about a Slayer Dream. And Wesley was going there to pick up some fancy scroll that Angel had called Giles about. 

So that left her to do it alone. She'd debated asking Riley to come with her - Buffy knew her boyfriend would, if she asked, or perhaps even if she didn't but he thought he could help - but he'd gone on patrol with her into the early hours of the morning the last two nights. And Riley, while probably one of the most durable and capable normal people she knew, was still limited in stamina compared to a Slayer. 

Buffy frowned. On temporary suspended duty, and without anything really to occupy him, Riley had gotten restless. He was still living on campus, at Lowell House, but he was the only one left - the rest of the Initiative's soldiers had been transferred out of Sunnydale, even the ones who’d helped Riley disobey orders - like his friend Graham.

Buffy had been a little surprised by that, since his bosses were supposedly punishing Riley for his actions, but her boyfriend hadn't been that surprised. His explanation hadn't made a whole lot of sense to her either, since it had been so full of military jargon that she would only follow every other word. But after he'd clarified when she'd mentioned that, it basically had boiled down to the fact that Riley figured he was being made into an example.

Which had left him figuring he might be discharged from the military entirely, and sooner rather than later.

Buffy wanted to be upset at the prospect of Riley leaving the Army - mostly because she knew how important his career was to him - but at the same time... well, she didn't like the idea of him being deployed somewhere else, if the Army decided they wanted to do that. Still, ultimately, it should be Riley's choice - he had done nothing wrong, as far as she could tell, in terms of preparing for the fight against ADAM.

His idiot bosses didn't agree, apparently, which was _majorly_ annoying.

So Buffy was patrolling alone tonight, which wasn't likely to be that big of a deal anyway. She'd already dusted two newly risen vampires, and she figured she'd probably run into a few older ones hanging around this cemetery for one reason or another.

Sure enough, the sound of a scream off to the left caught her ear, and jumping up and onto one of the headstones, Buffy practically ran across the headstones, easily leaping from one to the next until she found the source of the screams - a young woman, looked a few years older than her, screaming as a vampire fed on what Buffy guessed was her boyfriend. The bloodsucker was a woman, who looked like she was in her late twenties - but from the way her clothing style seemed frozen in the 70s, she was probably a lot older.

"Hey! Stop that!" Buffy called out. The vampire snarled and looked up, seeing Buffy.

"Slayer!" It growled, like nearly every vampire that knew who she was said. It was like they thought they earned some kind of points if they said it.

"I said stop that," Buffy repeated. She lunged for the vampire, grabbing the back of her shirt and pulling her away from her evening meal. A quick glance at the man suggested he had only been fed on for a few moments, and was still semiconscious.

But Buffy couldn't spare him another look just yet, as the vampire she grabbed broke free of Buffy's grip by the simple expedient of quickly tearing off her blouse, leaving her only in a tight undershirt - no sleeves, straps that covered the straps of her bra, mostly. And leaving Buffy holding a tattered rag of a top. The vampire turned and lunged at her, trying to grab her and throw her. Buffy jumped back, punched out at the vampire, and caught her wrist, sending her arm away from her, while the other hand clawed at Buffy's torso -

But Buffy evaded that quickly enough.

"Were you trying to distract me when you ripped your shirt off?" Buffy asked, ducking under another punch, then kicking the vampire in the stomach, sending her flying backwards and crashing into another headstone, cracking it in two. "Because I'm the wrong Slayer for that to work on, you know." Buffy added.

 _Hey, I'm not the one who actually dated a vampire!_ Buffy imagined Faith countering if she was here, which... would be fair enough. But Faith would also take a moment to stare, regardless. Committed to Amy or not, Faith was, in her own words, 'not blind', and the vampire's breasts weren't small.

But, more importantly, this vampire was not joining in on her quipping at all. She wasn't even saying anything, just growling and jumping up, coming at her again.

"Okay, now, you're just no fun at all," Buffy pouted. Pulling out a stake, Buffy waited for the vampire to reach her, and then Buffy dropped to one knee and drove the stake upwards into the woman's heart, dusting her. Buffy pulled away as quick as she could, to avoid getting too much dust on herself, and she quickly brushed the rest of it out of her hair. 

A quick glance saw that the woman and her date were already out of the cemetery, the girl propping him up a bit and helping him walk. After a moment, Buffy decided to follow them, make sure they got somewhere safe - but before she'd taken two steps, they suddenly stopped moving. 

And everything went silent.

Sunnydale didn't have a lot of native animal life - not a whole lot of birds or dogs or whatever - but it did have crickets, like everywhere else. And now, suddenly, the crickets were no longer chirping. 

Tightening her grip on her stake, Buffy slowly looked around, turning, and then -

"Well, that vampire might not have been much fun," a wholly unfamiliar voice said, as she finished turning.

Standing on a nearby mausoleum was a man. Maybe Xander's height, Buffy figured, but it was hard to tell. He wore a dark blue suit, light blue collared shirt, and a dark blue tie. The suit looked fancy and expensive, like the sort of thing her dad's bosses would wear. He had tanned skin, and short black hair, trimmed neat, but not too close to the scalp.

In one hand, he was flipping a coin idly. The coin sparkled silver in the starlight, and seemed to catch the light of the moon, even though it wasn't really in a good position to do that. 

"But you... you, little girl. You've actually been more fun than I'd have ever expected." The man chuckled, then dropped down from the mausoleum with ease, landing on the ground without a sound, and walking towards her.

"Who are you?" Buffy demanded, raising her hand with the stake up, as well as her empty hand, bracing herself to run. Her Slayer senses were screaming at her louder than she ever hard felt them before - this... this was no human. This didn't even feel like a demon, or at least not like any other demon she'd ever faced.

"I go by many names." The man snarked, grinning. He walked closer, and Buffy stepped back. The man flipped the coin in his hand again, then let it land on the back of his other hand. He looked at it. "Tails. You lose." 

"I lose?" Buffy raised an eyebrow, then mock-pouted. "And here I was thinking I could win a year’s supply of Rice-A-Roni, the San Francisco Treat."

The man laughed, throwing his head back and howling with mirth. 

_Okay, hello to the creepiness. It wasn't that funny._ Not that Buffy minded her little joke getting a response, but still. She tried to step back again as he finished laughing and took another step towards her, but her heel brushed up against stone....

Buffy turned, then blinked in surprise. There was a headstone behind her, one that hadn't been moments before, and it was as tall as she was. 

_Did he just-_

"Yes. I like you. Not as much as your friend, of course, but I’ve decided that I like you." He gestured at her, wagging a finger pointed towards her. "Please stop trying to move back, it's really not worth my time to throw up more obstacles, and we really do need to have a little chat."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Everyone has a Choice, Slayer. Choice is the greatest gift of Chaos. Choice, Choice, and nothing but Choice. All the world's a choice, and everything always comes down to it. That's the life - life of you, life of some worm somewhere, and the life of even something so high as me." He was still flipping the coin as he spoke, effortlessly flipping, catching, flipping, catching. The motion was almost mesmerizing, and Buffy had to figure it was related to...

Whatever power he seemed to have.

_Okay, first step, stop him flipping the-_

**_Really now, Slayer, when I asked you to stop running, I didn't think you'd start coming up with pathetic strategies to attack me._ **

Buffy's eyes widened as she heard the man's voice in her head - but his lips hadn't moved, and her ears hadn't heard a thing and he'd responded to her -

"DId you just-?! Did you just read my mind?" Buffy demanded.

The man chuckled, "No, not exactly, but I suppose that's how you'd put it. What with your limited mortal perceptions." 

"Limited mortal perceptions?" Buffy couldn't help but roll her eyes. "You sound like a bad cliche."

"I object to that!" The man replied, voice thick with mock-offence. "Bad cliches sound like _me_. Make sure you get it right, Slayer." He stepped closer again, and Buffy got a good look at his eyes. Perhaps unsurprisingly, they were entirely inhuman. No irises, just solid blue, a little lighter than his tie and suit. Buffy would have thought all that blue might be a fashion mistake, but the guy made it work, somehow.

"Who - what are you?" Buffy demanded. She dropped her arms down to her side, suspecting her stake would be useless.

"Like I said, I go by many names. Your friend - Harris, the would have been pirate. He likes to call me 'bastard'. He has other names for me too, of course, but that's his favorite. Well, that and - his source."

_Would have been pirate?! What does that -_

Buffy was still processing that non sequitur that she almost didn't catch the last two words. But then, her brain made the connection. _His source...that means..._

"You - you're... you're Xander's source?" Buffy didn't realize her voice was shaking in shock until she'd finished speaking. _This_ was the person Xander had met before their senior year of high school had started, who had started feeding him information? _This_ was the guy who -

Her mind flashed back to Xander's death in the wishverse, when he'd given her a coin made of iron, saying it had something to do with his source...  
  
 _What exactly did he say, back then?_ Buffy tried to remember her friend’s words, but they were escaping her mind just now.

Still, that coin... it had been the same size as the one the man was flipping looked to be. Different color, yeah, but the same size.

"In a manner of speaking." He answered her previous, semi-rhetorical question. "As I said, I have many many names. But you can call me - The Jester." He smirked, then laughed at some private joke for a moment. "And you and I, Buffy Anne Summers, are about to know each other quite well."


	2. Installment 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Not Mine.
> 
> Oof, I'm sorry about the long delay. As usual. I did not mean to take four months and change to do the second installment. As I've learned to now, I'm not going to try to make promises or predictions as to when you can expect more though.
> 
> Thanks to Starway Man and Deiticlast for beta-reading and creative consultancy.

Iron Coin Chronicles: The Silver Summer

By Kylia

Installment 2

**May 23rd, 2000**

**Cemetery, Sunnydale**

"The Jester?" Buffy looked him over... she didn't see what was particularly funny about him. Shouldn't jesters wear those funny little hats? The ones with all the bells and multicolored, like in the movies with castles and princesses and stuff?

"If you're about to tell me I'm not dressed right for the part, don't bother," the Jester told her flatly. 

"Sore spot?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"I'd be offended by the implication, if your words and opinions mattered to me," the Jester replied, then stopped flipping the coin in his hand, producing a deck of cards from his sleeve and shuffling it. Buffy wondered if he ever stopped moving his hands, busying them with something.

"Sounds like you're offended and don't want to admit it," Buffy quipped, smirking a little. "Xander must _love_ talking to you."

"Not as much as I love talking to him. He's quite entertaining, for something so insignificant. And so are you," the Jester continued to shuffle the cards, then flourished them from one hand to the other, like he was about to do a card trick. 

"And yet you're bothering with insignificant worms like us. Sounds familiar," Buffy replied. Lots of demons and vampires had tried to declare her and her friends nothing against them...  
  
Pretty much all of them were dead.

"And that's useful segue, thank you," the Jester chuckled. "I'll try to be as brief as I can, but still allow you to understand. I am a Power of Chaos, one of the Three Corners of it, in fact." Buffy could practically hear the capital letters as he spoke. "Chaos is but one of the primal forces that move reality. You might be more familiar with two of them - Good and Evil."

"I've heard of them," Buffy deadpanned. _So there really is a big capital G Good in the world. Would have been nice for them to help out once or twice. Does Whistler work for them? He said something about maintaining balance, though_. She didn't remember much more than about her conversation with the demon in question, beyond threatening to make him wear his ribcage as a hat.

"Well, there's a fourth one. One you don't think about. Fate."

"Fate." Buffy blinked. _Fate. Destiny. I'm the Chosen One, so... yeah. That makes sense._

"Fate. They don't really control everything you do. That's micromanagement. Ultimately, they're concerned about the big picture stuff - keeping galaxies spinning, the speed of light constant, the dimensions separated from one another. That sort of thing. They **_do_** interfere directly here and there, and sad to say, you feature pretty prominently in their plans for this planet in this dimension."

"Which means...?" Buffy prompted, glaring at him - to no avail.

The Jester flicked his hand and the cards flew in a small storm at her, but as Buffy raised her arms to block them, they all vanished before they reached her. 

"Imagine, if you will, that your life is a book. That everyone's life is one giant book," the Jester said. "Most things that most people do, they write for themselves in that book. You woke up this morning and chose to have three bowls of cereal and two bananas. No one made you do that."

_I should be a little creeped out; he knows what I had for breakfast, but he can read my thoughts so..._

"But sometimes... well, you **_don't_** write what happens in your book," the Jester added vaguely.

"If you're about to tell me free will is an illusion..." Buffy warned. She'd had enough of that from one of her professors that thought he was teaching philosophy, not English Lit. Not that English Lit had always been that much comprehensible.

"No, no, nothing that simple. You have free will - most of the time. All the time, really, when you get right down to it," the Jester shook his head. "At least, as you'd understand it." 

_You really like drawing attention to 'you mortal, you dumb', don't you, Joker-man?_ Buffy thought to herself in annoyance.

The Jester went on, his tone suddenly in earnest, rather than the cheery joke-y, amused-by-everything one he'd been offering for most of his talking up to now. "When Fate writes something in someone’s book, then it bends the universe to make it happen. It's more complicated than just 'David crashed his car into a tree'. Everything is forced into alignment to make it happen - unless something unexpected happens. Something Fate didn't account for." There was a smug note in his voice there.

"You, I take it?"

"Among others. Chaos exists to muck up Fate, just as Fate exists to constrain Chaos. We're always at odds - but Fate always seems to think they can somehow get everything _just_ right, and then... well, we won't be able to fuck them over." He grinned almost manically, "It never works, much to their annoyance."

"None of this really answers why you help Xander, or what you want with me, or... really, anything else?" Buffy wasn't sure what she was supposed to think about the news that Fate sometimes... what, re-wrote reality to make things happen? How did that even work? She was still trying to make sense of this.

Buffy knew she shouldn't just take this guy at his word either, but somehow, she knew he wasn't lying. He seemed smug and smarmy enough to omit, misrepresent... but not _lie_. 

_But how do I know he's not lying? Why am I so_ **_sure_ ** _of it?_

"You should care because Fate tried to kill you. Twice, actually," the Jester told her, chuckling. "Oh yes, you're not supposed to be alive."

"I'm one of the few Slayers to last as long as I have. That's not really surprising. I did die once," Buffy pointed out.

  
"By prophecy at that, too," the Jester agreed. "Had Fate had their way, you'd have **_stayed_** dead. Thing is, they never stopped to think about your friend. Mr. Harris... he was too normal, too standard, too mortal to bother with. I guess they never figured he'd matter. But since they didn't account for him..." He trailed off.

Buffy followed his logic. "That's how Xander was able to save my life that night." 

"Indeed. And had he not shown up when he did to interfere when you went up against your undead boyfriend and Acathla, you'd have died there too. Stopped Acthla still, but dead all the same," the Jester chuckled. "It was such a small thing he did, but it changed everything. Harris ruined Fate's plans _again_... he became something more than human. He took a tiny, miniscule amount of Chaos into himself - at that point, even if Fate wanted to write him out of their way, they couldn't."

"So Xander is a special Fate-ruiner?"

"Not exactly. Not in and of himself. Lots of people end up becoming unwriteable by Fate, you see. It hardly matters, either; Fate usually just writes... around them, so to speak. But I took a liking to your friend, and decided to interfere." The Jester stopped flipping his coin.

"And gave him a coin. Made of... steel, or iron." Buffy said, thinking back to that alternate universe she'd found herself in.

"And just how did you know-" The Jester looked at her pointedly, then chuckled. "Ha! Well, isn't **that** interesting. I suppose I need to have someone go and have a word with D'Hoffy."

Buffy started to ask what the heck he was talking about - he must have read her mind again - and the Jester waved a hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter. You're very unlikely to ever have to worry about that little big man. Fourth-dimensional being obsessed with pretending he's a true Power." 

"Points. Do you have them, or do you need me to show you what one feels like?" Buffy raised up her stake, even if she was pretty sure she'd not be able to hurt this guy - at least, not so easily. _Sooner or later I could find a way to hurt him. Right?_ They’d found a way to beat everything else, so... probably. 

The Jester chuckled at her threat, "So feisty! But yes, I did give Harris my Iron Coin." Once more Buffy heard the capital letters. "To summarize it for the mortal studio audience, it lets the user get a 'peek' at Fate's book for any given person. Which is how your friend's often been able to stop some things from happening." He shook his head, still grinning. "Not everything, of course, but he's consistently thrown all kinds of wrenches into Fate's plan. Very amusing wrenches, at that! If not for Harris and my Coin, your sister Slayer should be in prison right now, and her girlfriend should be a rat... Xander's dating the wrong person entirely, according to Fate's plans..." The Jester actually threw his head back and laughed uproariously for a minute, like a cartoon character. “Chaos. **That** is the point."

_Faith in prison... yeah, I suppose that could have happened. Amy should be a rat, though? I don't - when would that have happened? And Xander dating the wrong person? How is that supposed to work?_ By this point, Buffy couldn't imagine Xander being with anyone other than Cordelia. 

It had been over two years, after all. Those two managed to avoid being too sickly-sweet together, at least where she could see; but all Buffy had to do was look at them and see how much in love they were.

_Oh, wait. Maybe Cordy would have left town, after her family lost all their money?_ That was the only thing Buffy could think of, and even that didn't make much sense. Cordelia didn't really like living in Sunnydale, sure, but she couldn't see the woman just up and moving away from Xander either.

_Yeah. So none of that makes any sense._

His hand on his chest, the Jester finished laughing and straightened back up, twisting his neck in a decided unnatural way, then looking back at her.

"In short, Harris has changed a lot. But Fate tried to respond - that's how and why the wolf-boy got killed."

_Wait._ ** _Fate_** _killed Oz?_ Buffy inhaled sharply, feeling a sudden cold anger burning at the idea that Oz's death hadn't been a tragic accident, that someone had **deliberately** put Willow through that, had **murdered** her friend...

Someone trying to kill her - well, that was par for the course. Her friends were off-limits, though. Always had been, always would be.

"You're telling me all this because you want something from me," Buffy said, eager to hear what it was now. If it meant hurting the people who killed Oz... "You stopped Xander from telling anyone about you, and about that coin of yours. Right?"

"I did. It's more fun when he can't just tell everyone what's coming, of course. Watching Harris try to talk around the issue, convince everyone he knows what's coming without actually saying it, work around the problem." He started flipping his coin again. "He still won't be able to tell you, and if you try to tell him that _you_ know now... well, you'll have the same coughing fits he has a penchant for. Push the issue, and I'll just take this back." He flipped his silver coin at her, and as much on instinct as any deliberate action, Buffy caught it easily in one hand.

"Fate tried to stop Xander Harris from acting. They failed. Then they tried to write around him. Plan for him. That didn't work, either. So now, they've decided on something a little more... direct. Your friend's a hunted man now. Fate's sent some of their... favorite killers, for want of a better term... to just get rid of him, once and for all."

Buffy stared at him, waiting for him to go on, tell her more about these killers, how she was supposed to stop them. _I suppose a new threat was always going to happen._ "And I'm supposed to fight them. With a coin? Do I flip it at them, or what?"

"Something like that," the Jester pointed. "Go ahead, flip it." 

Buffy looked at him, then at the coin. After a moment, she rolled her eyes and flipped it, her thumb pushing it up and into the air... it came down, towards her hand, she caught it, about to say nothing happened when suddenly she wasn't holding a coin, but the hilt of a three foot-long sword. It looked like it was made of pure solid silver, but when she ran her hand over the blade, it felt as sharp as a real sword.

Despite weighing less than a stake, it felt like.

"Possibility. The Silver Coin is possibility and probability both - weaponized." He was now juggling three coins - gold, copper, and... maybe tin? It was hard to say on the last one. It was a dark and dull sort of grey. "Every hit you _can_ make, you will make. Works against regular enemies too, but it's also the only way you're going to be able to hurt the fourth-dimensional killers that are coming for Harris."

"You keep talking about - fourth dimensional... what does that even mean? You sneer when you're saying it. What are you, fifth dimensional or something? Is this... some sort of dimensional racism? That's a thing now?" Buffy scoffed at the idea, but then... none of this made a lick of sense, and she could barely wrap her head around it. She was pretty sure thinking about all this was going to end up driving her mad for weeks, at least.

_I think it's been driving Xander a little crazy, since it started for him._ Now that she thought about it, all this explained _so much_ about Xander over the last... two years? Had to be two years, based on Xander's behavior, on what this guy was saying...

"Fifth dimensional? Don't insult me," the Jester scoffed, not sounding remotely offended. "I'm a 23-dimensional superspace being, you might say. But the thing that's actually talking to you is a ninth dimensional fragment occupying a fifth dimensional space interfacing with your ridiculously boring third dimension." He tossed, then caught all three of his coins in one hand and started to flip them between his fingers. "You know, the place where cause precedes effect, gravity pulls things towards large masses and time moves only in a linear direction. Boring, as I said."

Buffy stared at him... and then decided she didn't even want to deal with it. 23-dimensional superspace? Ninth dimensional fragments? 

What was more important was that someone, or rather something - several somethings, from the sounds of it - was coming to kill Xander. 

"So, bottom line, you want me to keep Xander alive?"

" ** _You_** want you to keep Xander alive, unless I've missed something. I, personally, just want to keep things... interesting," the Jester corrected. "Granted, things will remain more interesting if my Iron Coin-bearer stays alive hence why you now have my Silver coin now. So when the Legion of Necessity comes for Harris, you can actually kill them."

"A whole Legion?" Buffy swallowed a moment, wondering how she was supposed to take on that many enemies at once. 

"No, no. Just a detachment. A few dozen discrete entities, but they won't all come at once. Probably." 

_Gee, thanks for that vote of confidence._ Buffy looked at him, wishing she could use this sword against this clown - though she doubted it would work. _I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d find it amusing to give me some extra clues about these legion guys, so that I actually have a chance of surviving the upcoming battle and saving Xander?_

The Jester smirked, and then laughed. He went on, "The Legion of Necessity is one of Fate's more capable lower-order soldiers, for dealing with lower-order threats. Raven Knights, Dimensional Gremlins, that sort of thing. Overkill to send them for piddly-little Harris, really - but then, the Strategem never was one for just enough kill." He waved a hand. "Force of Fate, you don't need to know. Point is, they're being sent to kill him. You'll recognize them because... well, to you they'd look like what you'd call angels cosplaying as ancient Roman soldiers. To most people, humans and demons alike, they'll just look like normal people. Most of the time. Until they sense Chaos. Like your sword."

Buffy had tensed until he clarified that last bit. She didn't want anyone to think she was running around killing people. The cops would be bad enough... but she didn’t want her friends to think she was killing people. When she _wasn't_.

"So they get near me or Xander-"

"And they break out the sharp, pointy bits of metal - and it won't be pretty. We're talking violence, strong language, adult content. All the viewer warnings," the Jester replied, and Buffy just _knew_ the guy was mocking her deliberately. 

"If they decide to come after Xander, they'll find out what happens when you roughhouse," Buffy said, remembering that first fight in Sunnydale. Darla and that... other guy. The one who looked like DeBarge. 

"I suppose they will. Stay alert, Slayer. They'll be here soon." The Jester's blue eyes seemed to twinkle with mirth, like Santa in those old-timey Coca-Cola commercials, and then he vanished, an explosion of playing cards filling the air where he'd been quickly flying towards her and everywhere else - Buffy didn't bother to try to raise her arms to block them this time, and sure enough, they disappeared before they could hit her.

Buffy stared at the spot for a moment, then twirled the sword in her hand. It was so light it nearly flew out of her hand entirely, but she managed to tighten her grip at the last second.

_I'm going to have to learn how to use this particular sword properly._ Same techniques, yeah, but the balance would be completely off. Buffy wondered how she was supposed to make it a coin again... and what would happen when someone else saw her use it. Should she hide that she had a magic sword? Could she? She couldn't tell anyone where she got it, if she was to believe the Jester - and given what happened to Xander, when he'd tried to share details this Jester didn't want shared...

She believed him.

Buffy suddenly had a thought, and she looked at the sword. "It can't be that simple. Can it?" She tossed it up in the air like she might a knife, ready to catch it by the hilt if she had to... but by the time it fell back down... it was a silver coin again. “Huh... I guess it can!”

Buffy looked the thing over. It looked like it had a heads and tails, but the symbols were worn away to the point of being unrecognizable.

_I have no idea what I'm getting into, but I'll be damned if I let the bastards who killed Oz kill Xander too._

**June 16th, 2000**

**17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

Cordelia let out an aggravated sigh, as she stepped through the door into the living room. Xander immediately muted the TV, and walked over to meet her by the door. Despite her exasperation, Xander smiled teasingly as he put a hand on her shoulder.

"And now that your first week of employment is done, how do you feel about being a working stiff?" 

Cordelia grounded as she took off her heels. "The _worst_. The stupid questions, the people trying to demand a discount they aren't supposed to have... the standing around all day! Especially in _those_." She gestured to the heels she had to wear while working at April Fools. Xander knew more about women's shoes since dating Cordelia than he did two years ago, so he knew these were relatively comfortable ones, with a small heel - but standing for eight hours in them was still probably no fun at all.

  
Cordelia walked to the couch, Xander sitting next to her after she did. She pulled her legs onto the couch and put her feet on his lap. Xander chuckled, but then he obliged his girlfriend, rubbing her feet gently - which caused her to make a sound he normally only heard, when they were alone in their bedroom. 

"How do you manage it?" Cordy asked, looking over at him. "I mean, I just stand around and walk in a small space - which is bad enough! But you? You have to work outside in the sun and carry heavy stuff, and all that other heavy labor."

"Well, I don't have to deal with idiot customers, so I think we might be kinda even," Xander suggested, not entirely unseriously. Cordelia, though, glared at him, and Xander shrugged. "Sure, it's harder work physically, but - and not to get all male chauvinist here, honey - I am stronger than you, physically. Plus, I've been at it for months, and we're not exactly wearing heels on-site." The mental image of himself and his coworkers all wearing heels while working on a construction site, climbing ladders in them. He laughed at the thought.

  
"What's so funny?" Cordelia narrowed her eyes, and Xander explained his sudden thought. "Nah. You wouldn't look good in heels."

"Definitely not arguing with you there," Xander agreed quickly. He shrugged again. "Seriously, though? I actually _like_ working in construction. I mean, it's exhausting most days, and some days I'd rather not go, and I'll treasure every day off like this one, but still. It's... kinda fun. It's **_satisfying_** , actually building something with your hands and your tools, getting everything set right. A challenge too." He looked over at her, smirking. "You, on the other hand, hate your job, so it sucks even more than it would anyway."

"I don't... _hate_ my job," Cordelia protested, but Xander raised an eyebrow, not even needing to say anything - his skeptical expression made it pretty clear to his girlfriend how unconvincing she was. 

_Very_.

"Okay, fine, yes, I do hate my job," Cordelia admitted. "At least parts of it. Mostly, I hate being a name-tag person and having to deal with everyone thinking they're better than me." She grimaced, "Especially my former classmates. And they're all home from college for summer vacation and everything, too." 

"Wait, so did one of the Cordettes actually show up at the shop?" Xander figured he'd have heard about that sooner if it happened during the week before today.

Cordelia shook her head, "No. At least not yet. But it's probably going to happen. Well, at least if any of them ask about Harmony, I can just say Sunnydale happened." She let out a long breath, silent for a moment. Probably thinking about her friend - not the undead version that Faith had killed months ago after the Vampire Amy from another dimension recruited her, but the one that had died when she got turned in the first place.

But Cordelia only lingered on that for a moment - she'd had time to come to terms with it already.

"But at least today was the last day of the work week, and it was payday. The whole reason I'm doing this." She laughed, "The smell of money makes it worth it... mostly." She pulled her feet off of his lap and sat up, looking over at him. "You're sure you're cool with me just putting it all aside?"

"I can keep covering room and board. Not like my mom charges that much," Xander assured her. "The more you - and I - save up money, the faster we can move into a place of our own." His mother was happy to let them stay here while Cordelia went to college, but Xander didn't want to live with her until Cordelia graduated, and his mother didn't _want_ them to either.

_Plus, then we'd never have to worry about her walking in._ Okay, so his mom wasn’t an idiot or super-nosy and she always knocked just in case, and his mother had never actually interrupted them while they were 'busy', but still. 

"I'm going to keep my eyes open for places. Check the classifieds, weigh pros and cons," Cordelia said. "Get some ideas. I'm thinking we don't actually do anything until fall, and I have to move to working part time," she added, being very pragmatic and rational about money. Just as she had always been - even before she lost it all, she'd been pragmatic about money. She'd just had more of it.

"Makes sense to me." Xander was pretty sure that he'd have very little trouble letting Cordelia handle their finances entirely in the future. As much as she liked nice things and as much as she liked shopping, Cordy was never going to actually spend it frivolously, when she knew they couldn't afford it.

_If my girl figured out how to make it rich on the stock market overnight like a character in a movie, I wouldn't be surprised by that._ Not that he figured she'd actually try it.

"That's what I like about you, Xander!" Cordelia poked him lightly, "You don't try to do things you know I'm better at than you."

"So... pretty much everything?" Xander joked. "Except cooking. Which, speaking of, I'm going to get started on making dinner." He stood up, leaning down to give his girlfriend a quick kiss and headed into the kitchen.

God, he loved his girlfriend.


	3. Installment 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Not mine, as per usual, yada, yada.
> 
> This chapter brought to you by, of all things, Comic Sans. Thanks extended to deiticlast and Starway Man for their beta-reading services, as always. They put up with my shitty schedule for this, which, let me tell you, is quite the burden I lay on them. :P

Iron Coin Chronicles: The Silver Summer  
  
By Kylia  
  
Installment 3

**May 24th, 2000**

**Wesley's Apartment, Sunnydale**

Moving around in a wheelchair was not easy. Especially since his apartment wasn't exactly laid out with one in mind. Fortunately, Wesley wouldn't have to be in this damned thing for that long. His injuries from the explosion were not minor, but they were not so severe he'd be crippled for life. Or even for longer than a few weeks.

Still. Moving around was easier said than done, and he'd settled for ending up in front of his couch, rather than trying to move his chair out of the way and sit at his desk. He paged through the book in his lap, trying to learn more about the demons Faith and Angel had faced to recover the Scrolls.

The name Vocah sounded familiar, but 'a soldier of darkness' as Angel had said the Oracles called him, was not a particularly specific description. It was perhaps irrelevant, since Vocah was dead, except that there had been another demon just like him, that Faith had faced one just like him, however briefly. And he'd escaped.

Wesley closed the book and set it aside on the couch, frowning. Nothing. Nothing about Vocah or his species in three of his, historically speaking, most useful bestiaries. 

_We likely have time to investigate further. Besides, at the very least, the basic manner of their defeat is something Faith does know._ It wasn't urgent.

Something that was, however, was the Scroll of Aberjian. Wolfram and Hart had been using it to summon something, and it was incumbent on him to try to find out what. 

And he very much wanted to find out what 'Shanshu' meant.

"Or maybe it's Shushan?" He murmured, the thought occurring to him. The characters were not exactly clear on the...

Wesley rolled the scroll out on his coffee table, wincing a little as he leaned forward, examining the writing on the scroll. It wasn't Aegean. It could have been derived through the Magyar, as he'd thought earlier, but...

Wesley rubbed at his temples and then started to move over to his bookshelves, scanning the titles. What he wouldn't give for some of the reference sources at the Council's headquarters. Of course, then he'd have to let the Council get their hands on the Scroll, and right now, Wesley was not fond of that idea at all.

_They probably wouldn't care one whit that Angel is prophesied to play a major role in the apocalypse._ In fact, they would do everything they could to prevent Angel from finding out any useful information from it, just on general principles.

He frowned, not finding the book he was looking for and then biting back several oaths as he realized the book he needed was on the upper shelf. Wesley debated the merits of forcing himself up to grab it, and was just about to attempt it - when he heard the door to his apartment opening.

It was Faith, almost certainly. She'd absconded with the key he'd given her when she helped him get inside last night, and since he had a spare, he hadn't made an issue of it.

_Besides, it's better for my Slayer to have access to my place if she urgently needs something and I'm not here._ A year ago he probably wouldn't have trusted her in his place, just out of fear she might try to pawn some of his rare books, or his tea service. 

If he did something to really annoy her, she might, but short of that, his belongings were largely safe. He knew that now. 

"I'm not gonna be here all day, Wes," Faith replied, waving her hand dismissively. There was an almost scornful note to her voice, but as she stepped into view, her expression didn't entirely live up to it - she was actually sparing him a bit of a smile. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, "I figure if I actually hung around your place for a whole day, I'd have to strangle you."

Wesley held back a laugh, "If you actually stayed around all day, I'd probably let you."

Faith snorted and tossed him a small paper bag. It was slightly warm, and after a moment, he opened it up and saw that it was a blueberry scone, from the bakery near the building that actually made something halfway decent, for an American place. 

"I was on my way here, so I figured I'd get you something anyway," Faith explained. "How are you? How long until I can get some use out of my Watcher?"

"I'm doing as well as can be expected, considering I was blown up," Wesley answered, taking the scone out. He looked back to the bookshelf, debating just how best to push himself up so he could get the book he needed. "But I can still be of use, even if I'm stuck like this for now." He took a small bite and enjoyed the taste for a moment, before swallowing. "Thank you - I do appreciate you not going out of your way for this."

"Welcome, I guess," Faith muttered after a moment. "Look, Wes," she said after a moment, more serious. She seemed to try to find the words to carry on, but failed to do so.

Wesley turned back to look at her. With some effort, he turned the wheelchair around and held up his free hand. 

"Please, Faith, don't thank me. I'm not sure either of us could handle the mortification," he said, his voice grave for a moment. "I think we can just say at this point, we're even."

"Oh, no, we're not even **close** to even, Wes," Faith disagreed, but her tone and the slight laugh as she finished - the note of relief in both - belied her words once more. "But...yeah. Good plan." She cleared her throat. "Look, while I'm here, anything you need? Amy's sleeping in, and I've got nothing else to do."

"I'm flattered you found time for me," Wesley replied, drolly. He sighed. He hated to admit it, but he could use some assistance. "What about your injuries? All healed, I assume?" She'd only been hurt minorly, between the fight and the explosion.

"All healed up, yeah," Faith grinned. "Slayer healing. I fuckin' love it." 

"Well, since you're all better, if you could perhaps... if you could grab a few of the books on the top shelf there?" Wesley gestured. "I'm trying to translate the Scroll of Aberjian, but I'm getting nowhere at the moment."

"Still stuck on that one word? Sand-Shoes, or whatever the fuck it was?" Faith walked over towards him, and the shelf.

"I am," Wesley admitted. "It's proving to be particularly difficult to pin down an exact translation. But I'm sure I'll manage sooner or later." 

"What books you need?" 

" _Villers' Treatise, Precursor Root Languages_ and _The Feldberg Manuscript_ ," Wesley listed off. Given the age of the scroll and the prophecies therein, his best bet was to go back all the way to the beginning. 

_Now that I think about it, perhaps 'Shanshu' is proto-Bantu?_

"Here ya go," Faith grabbed the books and handed them to Wesley, who moved them to the desk next to him. "So what have you translated? Just that Angel's gonna be part of the big final battle? Last Apocalypse? Armageddon, when the trumpets sound, and Judgement Day and all that shit?"

"So you did go to Sunday School then," Wesley mused. He rather doubted Faith had studied Christian theology of the apocalypse in any other context.

Faith shrugged, "It wasn't all that bad, when I was a kid. Free snacks, and got to be away from whatever foster home they'd stuck me in that week." She looked around, "You got any of that good beer in the fridge?"

"I do," Wesley admitted. More than half the English and Irish beer he bought ended up being drunk by Faith, though if she wasn't drinking it, he wouldn't be buying as much, so it balanced out. 

Underage for Americans or not, Wesley did not feel the need to try to stop his Slayer from drinking. As long as she didn't indulge to excess - and apart from the time she'd thought Miss Madison was dead, Faith didn't seem to go in for going far enough to cause any issues - Wesley wasn't going to interfere. 

Faith could make her own choices, and while others might consider her choices self-destructive, Wesley had long since learned to accept that Faith, while certainly capable of poor judgement, was wiser than he'd given her credit for, when he first met her.

Quite a bit wiser, all said and done.

"Feel free to take all six bottles. I shouldn't be mixing alcohol and the medications they gave me at the hospital." Pain medications more powerful than over the counter ibuprofen or acetaminophen. 

Faith scoffed as she headed into the kitchen, "One more reason to be glad I heal quick." He heard the fridge door open, and the sound of Faith opening a bottle. "Don't think I heard an answer to my question either, Wes," she called back, the sound of her rummaging through his cabinets accompanying her question. 

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Lookin' for those British snack cake things you have. Whatcha call 'em, jeff cakes?"

"Jaffa Cakes," Wesley corrected, cringing a little at her mistake on the name. He hesitated for a moment - Jaffa Cakes he had to get on order and delivered here, since there was no shop in Sunnydale that sold them. 

"The cupboard above the sink, middle shelf," he eventually called out to her, "Do try not to take too many. They're not easy to get in this colonial backwater town of yours, you know."

"Hey, watch it!" Faith replied, with mock-anger. "Keep that up and I'll toss this box of Ceylon Pekoe," except Faith pronounced it 'See-lon Peck-oh', "into Sunnydale Harbor."

"How very Bostonian of you," Wesley replied dryly. Faith came back out of the kitchen, beer in one hand, and a few Jaffa Cakes in the other. "But in answer to your question, since I'm still stuck on that one word, I haven't made much progress on Angel himself. Nor determining what Wolfram and Hart raised in the box. Though, come 2003, you and Buffy might need to take a visit to Reseda."

"Yeah? To kill what?" Faith immediately seemed interested.

"The Beast of Amalfi, apparently. A razor-toothed, six-eyed harbinger of death. Given how much time we have, I've put off determining any more details about it for now." Wesley shrugged. "Or perhaps Angel can handle it himself. Los Angeles does seem to be his ‘turf’ now, so to speak."

"If he can't, I'm sure you and your old books will tell us how we kill this Beast thing, same as everything else," Faith said confidently. "That's the other thing you’re good for, ya know. Other than providing cover from bombs." She took another sip from her beer and started in on one of the cakes, before leaning against the wall. 

"Since you're an invalid and all for a few weeks, I figure I can come by and help you out a bit, every now and then. As long as I'm not too busy. Anything else you need while I'm here?" Faith made it sound casual, as if she had no real regard for his welfare - but if she truly had no regard, she wouldn't be here offering to help, now, would she?

"Well, if you insist? I could use a bit of assistance rearranging a few items of furniture to make it easier to move around in this chair," Wesley said, then explained what he needed.

**May 24th, 2000**

**Faith's Apartment, Sunnydale**

By the time Faith got back from Wesley's place, Amy was just getting dressed after using her shower. 

_Damn it, if I'd walked a bit faster, I could have gotten here when she was all wet and naked._ Not that Faith had any difficulty seeing Amy naked, if that was what she wanted.

Just as her girlfriend had stayed over at her place half the time while in college, Amy was here half the time, or thereabouts, even if she technically lived with her dad still. Faith hadn't exactly expected Amy to be here when she arrived last night - or early morning, whatever - from L.A. But her girlfriend had been here, half asleep, waiting up for her.

Faith had been too tired for them to do much, after the day she'd had in L.A., but...

Well, even when they weren't fucking, she liked having Amy in the same bed with her.

"All awake now, Sleeping Beauty?" Faith asked, grinning as she walked up to her girlfriend and gave her a quick kiss - one that Amy quickly deepened, putting her hand on Faith's back and pressing against her. Faith had no problem with that and returned it, their lips locked, one hand roaming down Amy's back, reaching and then lightly squeezing her ass until they both had to pull back for air.

"Morning," Amy murmured, resting her forehead gently against Faith's, and Faith tried to ignore the many warm fuzzies that gave her. 

_Damn it, I do have a rep to maintain!_

"Morning," Faith agreed softly, smiling like a fucking idiot in love - which she was - at her girlfriend. "Didn't think you'd be awake just yet."

Amy shrugged, "Only woke up... I dunno, half an hour ago? I don't have to go to classes right now, so I’m all in for sleeping in. I'm surprised you were gone - you were super tired last night."

"Nearly being blown up and then fighting demons and breaking some bastard lawyer's hand in several places will do that to you," Faith laughed, dropping down to sit on her bed.

"You got blown up? Faith, what the -"

"Nearly," Faith interrupted, before Amy could get too worked up with concern. It was... well, it was cute, sometimes, but the last thing Amy needed was to get wound up tight over her getting hurt when she hadn't. 

"It's kind of a long story, but the short version is the bad guys in L.A. left a bomb in Angel's place, Wes and I walked in, saw the bomb right before it went off - and Wes, being the fucking idiot he was, pushed me aside, jumped and covered me and took most of the blast instead."

_I could have healed faster than him._ Still, faster healing or not, she still got cut up like anyone, so she'd probably be in a wheelchair - then again, she'd have unable to have taken on the enemy later on, alongside Angel, which would have left him two on one when the backup showed up. 

But, she wouldn't have been in a wheelchair as long as Wes was gonna be.

It was still so fucking **stupid** of him. Guy could have gotten himself... fucking killed. She didn't want to have to try to break in another Watcher.

She'd finally gotten Wesley around to being... you know, not... terrible, and shit. Didn't mind having him around at all, sometimes.

"And you're okay? And for that matter, is Wesley alright?"

"I am, yeah, and so is Wes." Faith nodded. "You can check me yourself, you know!" She smirked, and spread her arms a bit, so Amy could come and feel all over her if she wanted. Amy laughed and walked up to her, putting her arms on Faith's waist and leaning in to give her a quick kiss, voice soft. 

"Good. I like you intact." But, unfortunately, Amy didn't take Faith's suggestion to check for herself, though she stayed close even as both of them let their arms fall to their sides. "So... what exactly happened? You said Wes was going to help Angel with a translation?"

"Yup. Some ancient scroll. Full of prophecies. Angel stole it off a gang of evil demon lawyers he's been fighting all year." Faith rolled her eyes. "It probably could have been an ancient fucking cookbook, and he'd have been just as excited. Nerd loves his ancient books and scrolls."

"And if someone offered you a fancy new knife, could you have pried yourself away from it?" Amy pointed out, echoing Faith's own thoughts from earlier. "I probably wouldn't turn down a book of new spells and rituals. Or a brownie." 

Her stomach actually rumbled right after she said that, and so Amy laughed a bit ruefully. "I suppose I'll need to get breakfast after we're done here. Late breakfast, anyway." She sat down next to Faith. "So, ancient prophecies, evil demon lawyers, bombs... even by Sunnydale standards, that doesn't sound like a normal day."

"No, not really," Faith admitted. "Mostly the bomb and lawyers part, of course. But I did get to break a guy’s hand, arm and fingers," Amy raised an eyebrow, and Faith waved a hand dismissively. "He was evil. Literally. Summoned some evil... thing. Had the scroll that they stole back, and left the bomb behind."

Faith sighed, "I was angry, y’know, about how they hurt Wes. Pissed, even. Just... don't tell Wes that."

Amy actually _giggled_ , covering her mouth like some little kid saying a dirty word while she did so. "Right. Because you can't have Wes - or anyone else - thinking big tough Faith actually _gives a shit_." 

Amy put a hand on Faith's shoulder, smiling. "Goddess, I love you." She giggled again. "I imagine Wes didn't want you thanking him, either."

"No, thank fuckin' God," Faith admitted after a moment, unable to stop herself from smiling - mostly at Amy laughing, rather than at what her girlfriend was laughing about. She liked seeing Amy laugh and smile and all that sappy as fuck shit. "We decided to just not talk about it."

Amy's stomach rumbled again, and she stood up, stretching a bit, raising her arms above her head and pulling her shirt up a little - Faith watched that little strip of skin be exposed for a moment.  
  


"Why don't you tell me the highlights of your adventure in L.A. while we head down to the Doublemeat Palace, so we can get some breakfast. You want anything?" Amy offered.

Faith stood, "Yeah, I could eat."   
  


As they walked towards the door, Faith started detailing what had happened in L.A. "So, Angel's got a little gang of his own helping him - there's this Irish guy, half-demon, half-human, drinks even more than I do, gets visions. 'Migraines with pictures' he calls them, but still..."

**June 17th, 2000**

**Wesley's Apartment, Sunnydale**

"The translation is finished, and I'll be mailing you the full translation by courier soon," Wesley told Angel over the phone. "But I thought I should tell you the most... relevant part of the prophecy, in regards to you, directly." 

"And? What is it?" Angel asked, sounding surprisingly incurious about the prophecy, though that could mean he was just hiding his reaction, as unexpressive as the vampire could be.

Even as Wesley hesitated a moment to find the best way to phrase - and the best way to qualify - what he was about to say, the Watcher heard the sound of the door to his apartment opening. He turned around for a moment, then returned his attention to the translation on his desk upon seeing that it was Faith and Miss Madison.

"With all the attendant caveats about the difficulties of translation and the possibility that I'm misinterpreting some rather difficult and vague terminology," not to mention the absurdly poetic nature of parts of the Scrolls, "the short version, Angel, is that your destiny, apparently, is to become human."

Angel said nothing for a moment, but Wesley heard Faith mutter 'what the fuck?' behind him.

After another long moment, Angel finally spoke up. "Explain."

"There's not all that much to explain - apparently, when the final battle prophesised in the Scrolls takes place, and you play your part in it, what will ultimately happen is that you will die... but only after living. Because a thing that isn't alive - well, it doesn't die." Wesley explained, then cleared his throat, taking a quick sip of his tea.

"Without getting too technical, Angel, the shanshu - the phrasing used to describe your death has the very clear meaning of 'dying after living a natural life'. From the other context, the meaning is quite clear to me - though you are, of course, free to have someone else check my work for you." Wesley rather doubted Angel would have anyone who could do it available to him - at least, anyone the ensouled vampire could actually trust. But he was certain about his translation - or as certain as anyone could be, given the difficulties it posed.

"Whenever the final battle occurs, assuming you play your role in it on the side of good? Your reward, it seems, will be to become a human thereafter," Wesley went on, ignoring the shocked sounds coming from Faith and Amy as they listened to his half of the conversation.

Angel was silent for another long moment, before asking, "Human? As in, a _normal_ human?"

"Yes. Mortal in every way, presumably," Wesley repeated. 

"That... well. That's... something," Angel said, understating things, but there did seem to be an almost... well, Wesley would hesitate to call it hopeful, note in the vampire’s voice, but what else could he call it? "What does it say about the battle itself?"

_Ah yes. Miss Summers._ Well, if Angel were to become human, there would no longer be anything standing between him and the Slayer, at least cosmically speaking.  
  
"Not as much as one might like. The Scrolls contained a few unhelpfully nonspecific signs foretelling its arrival, and some details that, quite frankly, make no sense to me - though I imagine they'll make sense once they happen, of course - and... unfortunately, nothing about when exactly all this will actually happen. It could be tomorrow, it could be a hundred years from now." Or significantly longer.

"Right. And what about whatever Wolfram and Hart raised in that box?"

"Not much. But... the implication appears to be that the threat it poses will be as much... spiritual, as physical. Beyond that?" Wesley shook his head. "I haven't been able to identify the ritual used, even given that we have the words and terms of it laid out in the scrolls themselves. I intend to keep looking when I can, but nothing I've found so far elaborates as to the ritual's intent or origins."

Angel made a vaguely sigh-like noise. "Alright. And you're sending the full translation?"  
  
"As soon as I can - today, tomorrow at the latest," Wesley confirmed. 

"Well, if I have more questions after I've read it, I'll call you," Angel replied, then he hung up. Wesley looked at the phone, then returned it to the cradle, before turning around to look at Faith and Amy. Faith, especially, looked about to explode with questions.

"Wait, so - that's - Angel's gonna become a real boy one day?" Faith said, quickly, and then laughed. "You've _got_ to be kidding, right? Pulling a joke on him?"

Wesley raised an eyebrow, "Really? Faith, in all the time we've known each other-"

Faith rolled her eyes, scoffing. "Yeah, yeah, no sense of humor, and you wouldn't joke about something so important." She crossed her arms in front of her. "Have I told you you're a real fuckin' stick in the mud, Wes?"

"Only approximately two hundred and fifteen times, give or take," Wesley drawled, smirking. "And as far as my translation goes, I'm quite confident that yes... Angel will become a human being, after the final battle he's destined for. Assuming he survives it."

"So... by final battle," Amy asked, furrowing her brow, "Like, final final? No more demons, ever?"

"Unlikely. As you've learned from living in Sunnydale, apocalypse is a word that has a plural version. But what Angel is destined to face - it will be a very significant battle that could change the fate of millions, or more, most likely."

"Well, guess that means it won't put Buffy and me out of work, at least," Faith laughed. Then she laughed again, softer this time. "Angel. Human. I wonder what B will do if she's still around, when that happens?"

"Well, she seems like she's moved on with Riley in a pretty major way, by this point," Amy pointed out. Then she grew a touch wistful, or at least, swept up in it all, "Still... her and Angel? From what I've heard, they really did have that grand, epic romance novel sort of love, so maybe..."

"Perhaps it’s best we don't mention the possibility to Buffy, and needlessly get her hopes up," Wesley interjected. "Until it happens - which, as I said to Angel, could happen either soon, or many years or even generations from now - there's no need to distract her with the prospect."

"You just don't want her hesitating to kill him if the guy goes evil again, before the big battle," Faith accused.

Wesley shrugged, "The possibility has crossed my mind," he admitted. "But I also think it's Angel's business if he tells her, and while Miss Summers isn't my Slayer, I do have to at least consider her mental state a little. She has, as Miss Madison says, largely moved on from Angel. But... well, do you really want to see her regress on that front, Faith?" Wesley looked her in the eyes.

"No..." Faith admitted after a moment, anger clear in her tone, in the way she dropped her arms to her sides. "Fuck," she muttered. "But... it doesn't sit right with me, making decisions for her like that. Especially when it's a Watcher doing it. Even you."

"I'm not going to try to stop you from telling her, if you decide to do so, but I would suggest you think about the effect it will have on the girl," Wesley replied slowly. "Honestly, Faith. Do you really think it's a good idea, all things considered?"

"Hell, no," Faith replied, shaking her head. "But it's not my call to make."

"I think Wesley's right - it's Angel's call," Amy suggested, stepping a bit in between them. This was not the first time Faith's girlfriend had played peacemaker to stop an argument between him and his Slayer from taking an extended length of time - even if they never got past sarcasm and name-calling, their back and forths could be quite prolonged. “It’s his life and his business who he wants to know about this, right?”

"Maybe," Faith admitted. Then she scoffed, "I'll think about it. Meantime, Wes, you got that powder those Vulkorian demons are allergic to? You said you'd mix it up this morning." Faith jerked her thumb at Amy. "Amy had the idea of using a little wind spell to blow it into their faces faster." 

"Yes. So you're still planning on making a run on their den tonight? Probably a good time for it, they tend to prefer the early pre-dawn hours, rather than just after sunset," Wesley stood and pulled two small cloth bags from behind a book on the shelf, tossing them both to Faith, who handed one to Amy.

Then Wes took one down for himself, and retrieved his crossbow from a lower shelf, where it sat looking - to anyone who might not be in the know - like an odd conversation piece on display. He loaded a steel, barbed head into the weapon, rather than a sharpened wooden bolt, grabbing more bolts to reload it as needed.

"Shall we?" Amy asked with a grin.

"Six dead demons, coming right up," Faith grinned back as she turned around, heading out, with himself and Amy in tow.


	4. Installment 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I reference episodes of Star Trek Voyager here. I also don't own that show.
> 
> Thanks to Starway Man and deiticlast for beta-reading and creative consultancy.
> 
> This chapter touches on Willow dealing with questions of her own orientation, as she waffles between various questions of how to identify her own feelings regarding Tara in particular and people of her own gender in general, et cetera.
> 
> To be clear, in this fanfic, Willow is gay, as she is in canon (to my reading of the source material anyway), but at this point in time she's still trying to understand her feelings; She considers the possibility that she might be bisexual, during this chapter. She doesn't come to a conclusion here, but like I said, in this fanfic, she is gay.
> 
> This chapter wasn't meant to quite focus on what it did, but, hey, things happened.

Iron Coin Chronicles: Silver Summer

By Kylia

Installment 4

**May 29th, 2000**

**6305 Westminster Place, Sunnydale**

From what Buffy had said, adapting to living at the Summers residence again over the summer hadn’t exactly been super easy, after nine months of living in the dorms. 

Like having to get used to arranging her schedule around her mother, rather than her roommate, living in her old bedroom and having to do chores and stuff since she was living there, et cetera.

Nothing out of the ordinary, compared to pre-college life - but still, an adaptation.

For Willow, on the other hand, there wasn't much adaptation required. Her parents had been out of town for most of the last twenty-five days, and Willow doubted they'd be in Sunnydale for more than twenty-five days _total_ for the entire summer. Book tours, lecture circuit and all that.

So moving back home didn't mean she had a whole lot more parental involvement in her life than she had before.

_Not that I ever got much attention from them the last couple years anyway, before I went off to college._ With plenty of money set aside to cover the bills and pay for food and stuff, Willow was left pretty much to her own devices. And without schoolwork to busy herself, Willow had a lot of free time, when she wasn't helping Buffy on patrol or hanging with her friends somewhere in town or at their houses.

When she was at home, rather than spending time with her friends elsewhere in Sunnydale, Willow spent a lot of time reading ahead for the classes she was taking next semester, practicing her magic - and sometimes she had Tara, Amy or both of them over for that, when they all had time - and occasionally, she even watched a movie rented from the local video store.

Willow had been expecting Tara to go home for the summer, and had been prepared to just write letters and do phone calls, but as it turned out, Tara had continued to rent her dorm room from UC Sunnydale, and would still be in town all summer. Willow had been surprised - but very happy - to hear that, though after she'd had time to reflect, she didn't actually find that revelation as surprising as she had at first.

While Tara had spoken very little about any member of her family other than her late mother, from what little she had said - and more importantly, **_hadn't_** said - Willow could guess this much about the nature of her friend’s relationship with her father and brother: it was bad. Very bad.

Willow hadn't pushed on the subject, knowing it was Tara's to share if and when she wanted to.

But the upside was that she got to spend more time with Tara. 

Since accepting and coming to terms with the fact that she liked Tara - liked her _that_ way, and her little chat 'with' Oz at his gravestone...

Well, Willow had still been left with the fact that Tara didn't have the same interest in her. Or at least, Willow wasn't willing to risk their friendship to find out. She kept torturing herself with the possibilities, though - feeling connections through her bond with the other witch that sometimes felt like maybe, just _maybe_ Tara might feel something similar for her, but...

_It's just wishful thinking._

That's what she told herself, and it made sense. 

Willow had had a harder time sorting out her own feelings beyond just Tara, and while she knew the best solution was to just accept it and go with the flow, give her time to sort it out naturally, - well, she had never been one to just... let things sort themselves out naturally. Never been one to leave things well enough alone. 

She knew this, and Willow also knew she should stop analysing this over and over again, but she couldn't. And so, like she usually did when she didn't understand something, she'd researched. Using books from the local library, researching online - and of course, trying to avoid all the pornography that came up when you tried to search for the words 'lesbian' and 'bisexual' amidst more useful search results.

And if Willow ever stopped and looked at some of those less useful results, it wasn't something she'd ever admit, not even under torture.

She hadn't settled on anything, but it had given her tons to think about, and made her think about a lot of things that had happened before...

But Willow still couldn't understand it, still couldn't make sense of it all, and so...

She didn't have any answers yet. But she kept trying to figure it out.

Willow was sure of this much - she wanted to kiss Tara. Sometimes - and she flushed hotly, even as she thought about it - the thought of maybe doing _more_ than kissing even crossed her mind. And yet... she'd loved Oz. Still loved Oz. And... she had enjoyed having sex with him.

A lot.

But, when she thought about it, and really tried to approach it rationally, apart from her many years long crush on Xander, how many other guys had she been attracted to? And intellectually, she wondered whether her crush on Xander had been that sort of 'safe' crush she’d read about in some of the discussions she'd read about people's own experiences identifying their orientations.

_Ugh_. The whole thing was very confusing.

She was interrupted from her thoughts by the sound of the oven timer going off, and hurriedly, Willow stood up from the couch and moved quickly to the kitchen, turning off the oven and grabbing an oven mitt before pulling a tray of cookies out. 

They smelled delicious, and she set the tray on the stovetop to cool. She was just starting to take them off the tray a few minutes later, when the doorbell rang. Willow looked at the clock - 

_Wait, it's already three?!_ Then she realized, no, it wasn't, it was 2:51 p.m. Tara had probably just arrived early. 

She hurried off to the front door, not realizing she was practically running until she got to the front door. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _This is just inviting a friend who has never seen Star Trek over to watch some of your favorite episodes of Voyager._ She liked all the Star Trek shows, but Voyager was probably her favorite of the franchise - not just because Janeway was a great character and captain, but because of Janeway's background as a scientist, and then there was Seven of Nine, plus the Doctor. Not to mention Neelix, and all the strange faces and places of the Delta Quadrant, and Tuvok...

Willow shook her head before she just started listing off everything about Voyager - she loved it all - and opened the door.

Tara was standing there, wearing a blue blouse and a long skirt that was sea-green and blue and regular green all at once, the whole thing shimmering and catching the sunlight quite prettily. In her hand, Tara was holding a to-go carrying tray from the Espresso Pump, with two drink cups in it.

"Tara, hey!" Willow smiled, stepping aside to let the other girl in. She stepped into the doorway, and smiled at Willow - hiding her face behind her hair a moment in that soft, shy, adorably cute way Tara did when she was unsure and -

_Willow, get a grip on yourself! You're acting like Xander got around Buffy, back during sophomore year!_ Even as the thought passed through her head, Willow suddenly had more sympathy for his antics. Some, anyway.

"Hey," Tara said, voice soft. "I - I got you your favorite." She picked one of the cups out and handed it to Willow. "Vanilla Hazelnut Latte with a shot of espresso, no extra sweeteners, and soy milk instead of regular milk."

Willow stared at Tara for a moment, and then giggled slightly. "You've only seen me order coffee once or twice. I'm surprised you remembered," she admitted. 

"It's hard to forget the look on your face when you drink it," Tara explained, her smile getting a little broader for a moment.

Willow felt her cheeks flush briefly- and then, before she entirely realized what she was doing, she hugged Tara, arms around her, chin on her shoulder, holding her for a moment. 

The moment quickly stretched out beyond two Mississippis as they stood there in front of the open door. Willow didn't pull away, and after some small hesitation, Tara returned the hug, the feeling of Tara's hands on her back sending an almost electric sensation across her spine. Quite honestly, Willow couldn't bring herself to break the hug, even as it lingered.

Hugging Tara felt...

It felt _right_. 

Tara's body and hers, they felt like they were fitting together like some -

_Hey!_ A small, flagging, rational part of Willow's mind seemed to yell at her, and Willow realized that the hug had stretched on for too long to be merely one of platonic friendship. Hurriedly, she pulled back, flushing, trying - and failing to stammer out an apology, looking away, not seeing Tara's face. 

After several seconds of incoherence, Willow cleared her throat and shook her head a little, mortification still leaving her cheeks red, like she'd just been running in the middle of a cold and windy day.

"Right, I - sorry," Willow apologized again. Then she pointed, "Living room is this way." She returned herself to the topic at hand. "I picked out some of my favorite episodes of my favorite _Trek_ show - Voyager. It - all the Trek shows are good, even the animated series, but Voyager is my favorite," Willow explained. 

"There's more than one Star Trek?" Tara blinked, following Willow into the living room. A small collection of VHS tapes, containing recorded episodes of Voyager, sat next to the TV. 

"Yup," Willow still couldn't understand how Tara had ever managed to live twenty years and never _once_ watch any Star Trek, but when she'd found that out, she'd invited Tara over to correct that deficiency. She was pretty sure Tara would like it - Tara wasn't as into science as she was, but Willow was still pretty sure her blonde friend would like the show, and its themes and messages and the characters.

"There's the Original Series - that's Spock and Kirk and all the classic stuff, in the Sixties, and they made some movies after that. Then there's The Next Generation show, which started in the late Eighties, and it's good too, same style of show, pretty much the sequel to the original. Then Deep Space Nine and Voyager, which are kind of different shows - but still just as good." Willow set her coffee down on a coaster, and set one out for Tara to put her tea onto. 

"Just don't try telling anyone online that their favorite one isn't the best," Willow added, cautioning Tara. "It... it tends to start fights."

Tara sat down on the couch and set her tea onto the offered coaster. "I... I don't go online much - everyone's spelling kinda depresses me," she admitted softly, and Willow couldn't help but smile at that - the terrible spelling online was one of her pet peeves, too. "But... I do know people like to fight there. A lot."

"Someone is always fighting with someone else on the Internet, it’s gotten especially bad in the Usenet newsgroups," Willow agreed. A smell coming in from the kitchen reminded her - "The cookies!" She hurried out of the living room. "Be right back!" She finished removing the cookies from the tray and took the plate into the living room. "I baked cookies," she explained. "If there's something else you want, I can grab -"

"No," Tara said, flushing a little as she interrupted. "This... they smell good," Tara added. She reached for the plate and Willow nodded. Tara took one of the cookies and bit into it. She closed her eyes a moment as she swallowed the piece of cookie - still kind of gooey and chewy, then opened her eyes and smiled at Willow.

"Tasty," she took the plate from Willow and set it down on the coffee table between them, 

"I'm glad you like them," Willow said, very pleased Tara seemed to enjoy the cookie as much as she was. She then went over to the tapes. "Like I said, Voyager is my favorite, and I picked some of my favorite episodes," The Raven, the Omega Directive and Dark Frontier. All in Seasons 4 and 5, so kind of diving pretty far in, but she wanted to share what she was pretty sure were the best parts of the show with Tara first.

_The early episodes can be a little slow._ Always seemed to take a Trek show at least a few episodes, if not more, to really get going.

"But they're all a few seasons in. I can get the first episode if you want," Willow offered.

Tara seemed to weigh the decision a moment, then sipped at her tea and shook her head. "No. I - I want to see your favorites. We can go back to the start later," Tara suggested. She looked away a moment, then back to Willow, seeming almost nervous, but Willow couldn't see why. "You really like Star Trek - it's a part of you, and I'd like to know that part too. Why not with your favorites?"

Willow looked at the ground, biting her lip as she felt her cheeks get hot for no good reason. _She's not flirting with me, she's just - she's just being nice and a friend and... so unfairly perfect!_

"Okay," Willow smiled back, happy to get to share with Tara. "So... the whole premise of Voyager is that there's this ship - called Voyager, naturally - that gets stranded 70,000 light years away from Earth due to an accident." She waved a hand, "It's a long story. But even with all their technology, a trip like that would take 70 years normally, so the whole show is about the characters trying to find shortcuts on their way home and deal with the dangers and opportunities in unexplored space and everything. The crew spends all their time together, so they become a family."

"Kind of like you and the other Scoobies?" Tara suggested.

"Exactly!" Willow agreed, grinning, then she added. "You're a Scooby too now, Tara, you know that - right? Everyone thinks you're great, and you - I mean, you helped us stop an apocalypse." She grabbed the tape she was looking for, an old recorded one - she had some recorded herself, and some she’d bought the official tapes, depending on what she hadn't been able to record. "And anyone who does that gets to call themselves a Scooby."

"I..." Tara started, then she bit her lips and flushed a deep red for a moment, clearing her throat. "Thank you," she said, soft enough that it was almost a whisper.

Willow pushed the tape into the VCR and walked over to the couch, sitting next to Tara as the tape started. She fast-forwarded past the tail end of an episode of whatever had been airing before this episode of Voyager, and paused right before it started as something else she should explain occurred to her.

"So... I should probably clarify one more thing," she added. "Well, two, actually. This episode - all three I picked - they’ll feature this character, Seven of Nine, pretty prominently."

"Seven - Seven of Nine?" Tara blinked, sounding like she was sure she'd heard wrong.

Willow nodded, "I know, I know it sounds weird, but - Seven is a human when she was just a kid, she was captured by these aliens called the Borg. And they're..." she paused, trying to think of the best way to explain the Borg. "Well, they’re great TV villains, but how to explain, um... The Borg are like an... insect hive mind, but with alien technology." She explained, trying to find the right ways to summarize it. "They 'assimilate' other species into the collective, and they're all sorta... one mind. No individuality or anything," she summarized. "Drones don't have names, just... designations."

Tara swallowed, "That... that doesn't sound very good." She sounded a little afraid - or probably just a bit disturbed by the idea. But then, the Borg were pretty creepy and disturbing - even if it made for great ratings on TV, and a very successful Trek movie. 

"It's not. Like I said, they're - they're bad guys in the show," Willow added. "Seven used to be one of them, but the Voyager crew rescued her. Only problem is, she was assimilated really young, so she doesn't really remember much about how to _be_ human anymore. A lot of her story is learning about it all from the ground up, and remembering her past and learning how to put life as a Borg drone behind her."

Tara frowned, "So the good guys in the show... they just took her away from the only home she ever knew?"

Willow nodded. "I know... that sounds bad. But- they didn't have a choice!" Willow quickly added. "It was the only way to stop her from handing the ship over to the Borg..." Well, that was a bit of an oversimplification - but also still pretty true, in effect. "The Borg stole her from her family first, from her own people and they just... used her," Willow explained. "But it does take time for her to really accept that. You'll see." 

Willow pressed play on the remote, and unconsciously, she scooted a little closer to Tara as the episode started, opening with Janeway and Seven in the Holodeck simulation of Da Vinci's workshop, Janeway talking Seven through regarding the clay bust they were working on and the need for... relaxation. For hobbies and stuff. 'Fantasy', Janeway said.

As the episode continued, at first Tara seemed unsure - but the longer the TV show went on, the more engrossed she was getting into it. Willow smiled as Tara seemed to really be getting into it - the scene near the end, when Seven and Tuvok came to the ruins of her parents’ ship, and she finally understood the flashbacks, remembering what happened had Tara leaning forward, tensed a little, and Willow put a hand on her shoulder.

"It works out," she assured the blonde witch. "Do you want me to pause it?" Willow then asked, worrying something about it was upsetting Tara, but Tara pressed her finger to her lips to shush Willow and looked back at the screen.

_Okay, so she's definitely gotten into it._ Willow turned back to the screen, not really noticing that she still had her hand on Tara's shoulder. Finally, they got to the end of the episode, the last scene back in the da Vinci simulation, with Seven and Janeway. 

Even having seen this scene like, a dozen times, and knowing that there was nothing romantic there - the writers would never let two women get together on prime time TV, and even if they came up with such an idea, all those jerk corporate executives at the network and production company wouldn't let it happen anyway - Willow felt her shipper's heart swell at their conversation.

Finally, the episode was done, and Willow stopped and began to rewind the tape. 

"So, what did you think?" Willow asked, curious.

"It was... it was interesting. Are all the episodes like this?" Tara asked.

"No, no. There's so many different episodes that do so many different things. But they all get pretty contemplative and philosophical," Willow explained. "There's a lot of deep stuff going on in every episode." She chuckled, "So, of course, what I do is spend most of my time shipping Janeway and Seven." Not that she didn't think about the other themes and care about the other characters, but still.

Tara blinked and stared at her like she'd spoken in some unknown language. "Shipping?" She blinked again, opened her mouth, then shut it.

Willow laughed, rubbing the back of her head ruefully. "Right, you don't know what that is..." she flushed a little. Shipping was a very, very nerdy thing to do - even Xander didn't really do that, and he liked Star Trek almost as much as she did (though he liked Babylon 5 more).

"Shipping is, uh... when you're really into the idea of two characters being in a relationship together," Willow explained, biting her lip a little. "To ‘ship a couple is to want to see them get together, or even... read stories - usually online - that fans write about them getting together, and so on," Willow explained. "And I ship Seven and Janeway." She smiled and laughed softly again. "Pretty much ever since I saw this episode, actually."

Tara furrowed her brow in confusion as Willow explained, then nodded slowly, looking back at the rewinding episode on the TV. "You want to see those two be together… in the romantic sense?"

"Yeah, I do. I mean, I _know_ the stupid network executives would never let it happen because homophobia, but yeah. I... I dunno. I just think there's an interesting story, and a lot of possibilities, there. Janeway's already doing a lot to help Seven get used to her new reality, her new sensations and feelings..." Willow trailed off. "And then - I mean, that scene, there at the end - there's just so much _potential_ there, between the characters."

Tara actually smiled as she looked over at Willow, watching her for a moment, then her expression seemed to fall for a split second before the smile was back. Willow was almost wondering if she'd imagined it entirely. 

"I...I suppose I can see it, now that you mention it," Tara mused. "So, it's the possibilities you're interested in? The story that could be there?"

"Exactly!" Willow explained. "Shipping is all about finding a story in the relationship, one that speaks to you. With fanfiction - that's where fans write stories based on the show, like I mentioned before, and post them online for other fans to read. They can be about anything, but I personally like to read the ones about Seven and Janeway forming a relationship, all the challenges they'd have to face, the growth they'd have together as characters. Seven learning about and understanding love and..." Willow trailed off, staring off into space, her voice having softened. "It's just... I guess I really like the potential romance of it all." She cleared her throat and looked back at Tara.

"Sorry, I’m probably boring you - I didn't mean to -"

"Willow, you don't need to apologize. I... I like hearing about the things you like. And this... this shipping thing..." she bit her lip, "It sounds interesting." Tara paused a moment, and then added, "I have some books... books that are... um..." She bit her lip and flushed.

"Romance novels?" Willow hazarded a guess.

"Yeah," Tara nodded, letting out a small sigh of relief. "And... that romance is... between women. If - if you think there's a romantic story you like between those two - then, maybe you might like some of the books I have? I could lend them to you, if you like?"

Willow's chest felt tight, and she swallowed. _I know I have a crush on her, but... she could help me with all this, right? Feeling like I... like I might be gay or bi? I mean, there's always Faith or Amy, but Faith's suggestion would probably be a sex variant on 'Want. Take. Have.' and... well, I could also talk to Amy, I suppose, maybe._

But still. It hadn't even _occurred_ to her to ask if Tara had any further reading on being gay, or women liking women or anything like that, fiction or otherwise.

Willow didn't realize she'd been staring silently for a prolonged period until Tara spoke, quiet and hesitant.

"No, sorry, that was a silly -" Tara started to say, flushing and looking away again, but Willow quickly interrupted her.

"No, no, it wasn't silly. At all. I would love to read them!" Willow assured her, squeezing her hand on Tara's shoulder very lightly. "I'd love to read books you like. I want to get to know you better, too. And if you think they have stories kind of like Janeway and Seven's, then I'd definitely love to give those books a look." 

Tara bit her lip and nodded. "I'll bring some over sometime, then? Or you could come by?"

"Both sound good," Willow agreed. "So. Do you want to watch more episodes?"

"Yes, please," Tara agreed, immediately. Willow grinned and got up to put in another tape, this one containing "The Omega Directive".

She returned to the couch, and as the episode went on, Willow, unconsciously, found herself drifting closer and closer to Tara. It wasn't until the episode ended finally that Willow realized she was practically pressed against Tara's side, her body against Tara's arm, her hand close enough to touch Tara's with just a tiny drift to the side.

Willow's fingers brushed against Tara's and she felt that electric thrill and that feeling made her realize what was happening, that she was practically snuggled against Tara.

"Oh! I -" Willow pulled back, slowly, reluctantly, wishing she could do more. "I... I didn't mean to like... invade your personal space and-"

"It's fine, Willow," Tara said, flushing deeper than Willow had ever seen her. "I - I don't mind." She looked away for a moment, taking a breath. 

To Willow, it looked like Tara was just salving her feelings, but she didn't say anything about that. Instead, she grabbed one of the last cookies and took a bite, swallowing it before changing topic.

"What did you think about that episode?"

"It was... interesting. Really interesting," Tara admitted. "This... particle. Omega - powerful, and perfect, but dangerous. It made me think about magic." As she often did, Tara's voice was much more clear and confident than normal when speaking about magic. 

"Magic?" Willow raised an eyebrow. "I mean... I suppose I can see it, but... Omega is always dangerous -"

"And so is magic, if you lose control of it." Tara cautioned. "Like... like with Amy's mom." Tara knew the story of Catherine Madison, or at least the highlights. Probably the only person other than Amy who knew all the details of being raised by that crazy, narcissistic... poopyhead was Faith.

_Really? That’s the best you can do?_ Willow mentally admonished herself for that - Cathrine Madison was a lot worse than a 'poopyhead', but she couldn't bring herself to use worse, even in her own head. 

Willow wasn't the psychology expert her parents were, but she knew enough to know that Amy's mom had been the most textbook case of a narcissistic abusive parent she'd just about ever heard of.

"We can't blame magic for that, not really," Willow protested. "Mrs. Madison was just... awful, always. Even without magic, she was - pretty terrible to her own daughter!"

"You don't need magic to be..." Tara swallowed. "To be a bad parent, but... Willow, once you start using magic as nothing but a... a tool, and not a thing of power to be respected... it's..." Tara bit her lip and looked down for a moment, then, "I worry about you both, sometimes. Amy, more than you, but..."

"You think we use too much magic?" Willow tried to keep her tone calm, but she felt hurt that Tara thought that she - or Amy, for that matter - could end up like Catherine Madison. 

"Not - not exactly," Tara protested. "It’s more like -" She licked her lip slowly, and Willow focused on the blonde's tongue, despite herself. Willow closed her eyes for a moment and clenched one hand into a fist in her pocket. She opened her eyes again as Tara went on... 

"My... my mom always taught me that magic is... it's more than just a tool. It's not just a... _thing_ for you to _use_ whenever you want, it's a... a force. Something you can't just - you can't just control it, or make do whatever you want. You have to respect it, as something beyond us all. Magic comes from the Earth, from everyone and everything living on it."

Tara inhaled, before going on: "I just - sometimes I worry that you and Amy don't always... treat magic with the right... reverence. It's not so much how much as... what for?"

Willow bit her lip before her immediate defensive retort came out. She wanted to tell Tara that she was wrong - at least, Willow sure as heck felt like she was - but snapping at her friend about it wouldn't accomplish anything. Besides, Willow could tell this was a matter of deeply held belief, something almost religious in nature, something Tara got from her mother - the woman who Tara always said taught her all that she knew about magic.

"Don’t get me wrong, I'm not worried that you're going to end up like Amy's mom, not without... not without something going very wrong," Tara clarified. "She's... she was an extreme example. But magic is... I just - I just worry how you and Amy both see it more as a tool than a force of nature, and once you start doing that, it's very easy to start using it as a... a shortcut. For everything. And that's not only wrong, it’s exactly what happened with those aliens - they wanted to use Omega as a tool, recklessly, creating millions of particles... they risked so much in pursuit of it."

"How much can little old me do to hurt magic?" Willow offered, trying to use a bit of humor by making her voice a little sillier and deeper, but then she cleared her throat. "Sorry." She licked her own lips now. "I... I don't know if I really agree with you, your beliefs about magic. Not - not completely. I’m sorry, Tara, but... I don't quite see it that way," Willow admitted. "I mean - I do understand where you’re coming from - I get what you're saying." Giles had always warned about the effects magic could have on the user, especially 'dark' magic.

In fact, that had been one of the definitions of 'dark magic' in Giles' many books - magic that could, through use, alter the emotions and the mind of the caster. It wasn't even about good or evil, in that way - magic that could, like... make you happier, make you more inclined to do good things, was still deemed 'dark' because it was messing with your head, artificially.

"Anyway..." Willow smiled, "I like that you had that you could tie it into the show, and see something you care about so much in the cautionary tale." She leaned in, eager to continue the conversation, if Tara was willing. "But since we’re talking about needing to have reverence for magic... what about Seven? She... she didn't say it in so many words, but seeing stable Omega was like... looking at the face of God, for her."

"I...I'll admit the metaphor starts to break down a little around there, but yeah, it _was_ really interesting, Seven's perspective - it's so... alien to everything else she does. Well, from what little I’ve seen so far," Tara agreed. "She’s so... logical and efficient. Pragmatic, task-oriented. But with Omega...not at all."

The ensuing conversation took them another hour and a half, the third episode completely forgotten.

Willow's stomach growled, and Willow realized it was getting time to make something for dinner. "Do you want to stay for dinner? I can make -"

Tara shook her head, "No. I, I should probably head back to my dorm. If - if your cooking in general is like your cookies, I'd probably stay until after sunset."

_I don't see a problem with you staying here for the night. You can even -_

Willow shut down that line of thought, before it even had a chance to be completed, even inside her brain. 

"Okay," Willow nodded.That was a good idea - not just because it was safer, but that too. She approached Tara and gave her another tight hug. "I'll come by tomorrow? You can show me those books, tell me about them?" Willow offered, not pulling away from the hug for several long seconds, knowing she should, knowing it was bad to be... perving on her crush like this, but... ugh, it was just so hard to stop!

Willow did manage, finally, pulling back from Tara before she could do more than just give her a probably too-long hug.

Tara was blushing furiously, but Willow's cheeks also felt quite hot. Willow started to apologize, but Tara beat her to it.

"I - I'm sorry," Tara said quickly. Then she added, "This was... I really liked today." She spoke quicker than usual, though nothing when set against Willow's own mastery of the art of babble. "I'll... I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Willow agreed, watching Tara turn and head for the door. _I don't - why did she apologize?_

Tara didn't have anything to apologize for. She wasn't the one who had basically just used a friendly hug like... foreplay, or something.

_You need to sort yourself out_ , Willow told herself as the front door swung back shut behind Tara. 


	5. Installment 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Still not mine, et cetera.
> 
> Thanks to Starway Man and Deiticlast for beta-reading and creative consultancy.

Iron Coin Chronicles: The Silver Summer

By Kylia

Installment 5

**May 30th, 2000**

**Madison Residence, Sunnydale**

It was stupid.

It was so _very_ stupid, Tara knew.

She'd already accepted that her crush on Willow was one-sided, impossible to be returned, that the redhead was as straight as an arrow. That she was crushing way too hard on someone who, no matter how much she might like her as a friend, could never like her back the way Tara wanted. 

It wasn't as if Tara hadn't experienced that before.

But... with Willow, it was different. Because every now and then, there was... something. Some... little hint that teased her, that seemed to suggest that maybe, just maybe, Willow could possibly like girls... like _her_. 

Every time, Tara had to deal with her hopes rising, her heart feeling tight in her chest and then...

And then her logical mind would remind her how flimsy the evidence was, how stupid it was of her to use that flimsy evidence to give herself false hope... and she'd quickly come crashing back down to reality.

Intellectually, Tara knew that she was still in the rising hope's stage, but despite knowing exactly where it was going to go... her heart still felt tight in her chest, and she kept thinking about all the things about yesterday that left her _convinced_ there was a possibility, however small, however limited, that Willow might just be into girls too...

Hoping for a dose of reality - or maybe holding out for a tiny chance at confirmation - Tara had decided that she was going to have to talk to someone about this. Someone who might be able to help her.

She knew Xander was Willow's oldest friend, going back all the way to kindergarten, but she shied away from the idea of asking him if maybe, possibly, there might just be a tiny chance the friend he'd known for more than 14 years could be interested in girls. Tara liked Xander well enough, and she wasn't as uncomfortable around him - or Mr. Giles, or Wesley, or even Riley (to a lesser extent for him) - as she would have been around any of them a year ago, but still.

Buffy was also an option, but she'd only known Willow for less than four years. Plus, Buffy was, like Xander, as straight as a ruler. So her knowledge and opinions might only be so useful.

Cordelia and Faith were out due to the simple fact that while both of them were friendly with Willow, they weren't as close to her as Buffy or Xander.

That left Amy. Like Xander, she had known Willow since they were little kids. And asking Amy also worked because of all Willow's friends, Tara was the most comfortable with her. 

Reaching the front door of Amy's home, she knocked on the door, biting her lip and looking to the ground a little as she waited for someone to open up. After a minute, the door opened and Amy was there inside.

"Tara, hey." Amy smiled and stepped aside, inviting her in wordlessly.Tara walked inside as Amy closed the door behind her. "I've got brownies in the oven, if you want some?" Amy offered.

"I'm good, thank you." She'd eaten more cookies than she really should have yesterday, so she’d decided on having no sweets today. "I just... I came by to..." Tara looked around, almost helplessly. "Can we sit?"

"Of course." Amy nodded, and Tara followed her into the living room, where a couch faced a TV displaying a paused Disney movie, or what looked like one. Tara didn't recognize which movie, but the art style was pretty recognizable. Amy picked up the remote and turned the TV off. "Is everything okay?"

"Nothing's wrong... exactly," Tara answered, swallowing. She looked around again, smoothing down the front of her dress before she sat down on the couch. Amy did as well, turning a bit to face her. "I... it's just..." she licked her lips. "Amy...you've known Willow for a long time, right?"

"Since second grade, yeah," Amy agreed, narrowing her eyes a little in curiosity. "Why - did she do something?"

"Well, I..." Tara looked away, biting her lip. Then she swallowed, took a deep breath and turned back to look at Amy head on. 

"Do you think there's any chance she might like girls?" Tara spoke quickly, but not so fast as to slur her words together. But as the last word left her lips, she felt almost lightheaded for a moment, her cheeks hot as she flushed. She then forced herself to take another breath.

"Girls? You mean...oh! Well, I..." Amy started, clearly thrown by the question. She cleared her throat. "I suppose I don't need to ask why you're asking: you like her." It wasn't a question, and Tara didn't say anything - she just nodded, still feeling heat in her cheeks. 

Amy looked down, her hands playing with each other in her own fidgeting gesture. She took a deep breath. 

"I... in all honesty? In all the time I've known her, all the years I've known her... I haven't seen anything that might make me think Willow likes girls," Amy finally said, after a long moment that seemed to stretch on forever. She looked up and met Tara's eyes. "How long have you-?"

"A few months, at least," Tara answered. She couldn't pinpoint exactly when she'd started crushing on Willow, or even exactly when she'd realized she was doing it - there was no big defining moment where she'd woken up after some lust-filled dream, and realized she wanted to kiss the redhead. It had just sort of... happened. 

"I... I mean... she's only just really started to get past her grief for Oz, and... when I did realize..." Tara trailed off and gave a slightly chagrined laugh. "Well, crushing on straight girls is... kind of an occupational hazard of being gay - or bisexual," she added quickly, in regards to Amy. "So... at first... I just..." Tara closed her eyes and forced herself to take another breath, trying to force herself to feel less hesitant, or at least - to speak directly, with less stammering and stumbling and pausing. 

"At first, I just accepted it as that, and moved on. Or I tried to. I mean - I knew she loved Oz, still loves him, and I also knew that before Oz, Willow had that _huge_ crush on Xander, like for years..." Though sometimes, the way Willow had described her crush on the guy... well, it sounded to Tara akin to the way she'd convinced herself she had a crush on her neighbor's son for several years. The 'safe' crush, that would never be reciprocated...

But, again, it didn't necessarily mean it _was_ that. 

"But every now and then, Willow... she does something... like - like yesterday, when she invited me over to watch Star Trek with her, and then she hugged me and the hug... lingered." The hug had felt so _nice_ , and so _right_ and their bodies fit together so perfectly - at the time, Tara had wished Willow had kept it going for longer. 

"And then when we watched the TV show, she was - I mean, she was practically cuddling me!" Tara shook her head. "It would be easier - so much easier! - to simply accept that she was straight and move on, if I didn't keep getting these... little signs. But - I mean, well, it’s all just wishful thinking on my part, right?" Amy had just said that she'd never seen anything that suggested Willow was anything but straight, after all.

"Probably," Amy admitted. Tara looked to the ground, and Amy kept going, speaking quickly, backpedaling her words. "But Tara - it's not like I have particularly good gaydar, and I spent years without even the slightest hint that I might like girls that way and then I met Faith and then we - it still took me months to figure out. So - I mean - maybe Willow-"

Tara shook her head. "You don't need to lie to spare my feelings," she murmured, and Amy nodded, flushing.

"I'm sorry," Amy apologized. "I mean - it _is_ possible I'm wrong about Willow here. But..." she shook her head. "Yeah. I don't think I am."

Tara nodded, letting out a breath, accepting what she already knew was the case. "I know. And I know I just have to deal with it. And accept that the... mixed signals, aren't." She swallowed, feeling... shattered. More so than usual, after she came down from her hope-given high. There was a real... finality here.

"If there's anything I can do to help..." Amy offered. Then she went on, "Listen, why don't you stay for dinner? We can hang out until then? Talk? Something to help keep your mind busy?"

Tara inhaled for a moment, debating saying no. On the one hand, she wasn’t exactly feeling...sociable, right now. On the other hand, going back to her dorm room and sitting in silence didn't really seem that much better as an option. And she _did_ like Amy. She'd never met the other woman's father, though. And she knew he wasn't totally thrilled about magic - though given what his ex-wife had done, Tara couldn't blame him for it.

"I... well, would your dad be okay with it?"

"He'd be fine with it, as long as I call him at work and tell him," Amy assured her. "He's happy to have my friends come over. At the very least, you'll eat less than Faith does," she laughed.

Tara couldn't help but chuckle as well, at that. Both Buffy and Faith ate a lot, given their Slayer metabolisms, but Faith in particular seemed to eat like she had a hollow leg. "Do you have any idea where she puts it all?"

"Still no," Amy shook her head, smirking.

"And your dad... he's... I never asked you about what he thinks about you and... magic." Amy's father was obviously nothing like her own, but-

_Well, that’s pretty much a given, right? The curse..._ Tara tried to banish that thought from her mind, her inevitable fate when she turned twenty was not something she wanted to think about right now. Or ever. Even as it loomed closer and closer, she tried to avoid thinking about it even more.

"My dad? Well... he's not totally happy about it," Amy admitted. "But he's come around, mostly. He knows about vampires and demons - at least that they exist - and that I use my magic to help Faith fight them, to stop them from killing people. And as long as I don't use it much around him, he's okay with it." Amy shrugged, then stood up, "Come on, please?" She offered a hand to Tara. 

Tara forced herself to smile and nodded, taking Amy's hand and standing up. "Alright. I'll stay for dinner."

  
**June 5th, 2000**

**Giles's Apartment, Sunnydale**

"So, planning on staying as a 'gentleman of leisure'?" Buffy asked, as she stepped back and held up the 'sword' the Jester had given her. Somehow, Giles didn't notice the weirdness of the weapon - that it looked like it was made entirely out of silver instead of like, steel and stuff - and when she'd tried to ask him if he noticed the weirdness, she had been unable to get the words out.

Letting her get a firsthand taste of what it was like when Xander tried to share information and couldn't. It SUCKED.

Buffy had gotten a lot more use out of swords in general over the last year or so - ever since that Anya demon-woman-person had sent her into that other universe. And even if the Jester hadn't decided to give her his magic coin, she'd have kept using them, periodically. Buffy’s experiences at the end of April, and during the final fight at the Initiative, had seen her come around even more on the use of a blade - they really did have a lot of advantages over a stake. 

The only thing that stopped her from taking one out on patrol every single night was the simple fact that ordinary swords couldn't be hidden in her pocket, or something like that.

This new one could, since it collapsed back into a coin with a simple flip. Which meant she'd be getting a lot more use out of it, even if she'd have to be careful about people seeing her pull it out of nowhere.

Somehow, Buffy didn't think that would be as 'not noticed' as the strangeness of the sword's composition.

But, before she could rely on using the sword in combat all the time, or most of it anyway, she had to get used to the balance of her new weapon of choice. It was much lighter than any other sword she'd ever held, and with her enhanced strength, Buffy kept coming up short. She had to move her wrist more, and be conscious of how far her arm would actually go, otherwise she would be crashing it into trees, walls, and headstones, because there wasn't much resistance or weight to inform her of when to stop. It even ended up in the dirt too, plenty of times, on downswings when she was busy fighting more than one opponent.

Talk about embarrassing! At least the vampires that had seen it were dust now.

"Being a Watcher is something of a full-time job, Buffy," Giles pointed out, holding up his own sword. He struck out with an overhead blow, and Buffy blocked it quickly, parrying before catching his intended feint-and-slash with ease. "And unlike when you were in high school, I don't need an excuse like being the librarian to hang around school property."

"You can't exactly just hang around on campus all day, either," Buffy pointed out. Sure, Giles could be there from time to time if he needed to, without people getting suspicious - unlike the days of yore at Sunnydale High. But he didn't have an excuse to just hang around all day in the UC Sunnydale library or wherever, either. Campus security would eventually take notice. 

Then again, Giles didn't need to. Still, during the school year, it _would_ be nice to be able to see her Watcher without having to come all the way across town.

"You could always get a job at the campus library, right?" Buffy suggested, making a swing of her own. She tried to account for the balance, and instead left herself completely overextended and nearly stumbled. It was only by a hair's breadth that she managed to avoid Giles's counter-swing from 'hitting' her arm.

"Oh dear Lord, no," Giles shook his head, sounding aghast, pushing the attack as Buffy pulled back into a defensive stance. She'd mostly gotten the hang of blocking with this thing, at least. "I’ve had my fill of helping school children find books - only to see them returned dog-eared, written in or covered with crumbs, or worse. You'd think the students at Sunnydale High were still in primary school, all the horrible things they did to the books they borrowed!" 

Giles swung underhand, Buffy dropping her stance to catch the blade on hers, then she decided to try again, grabbing the hilt with both hands and giving it a powerful, but controlled swing, knocking Giles's sword aside, and 'cutting' his chest, pulling the sword back at the last moment to prevent from actually hitting him. 

"Okay, fine. But don't you get bored just sitting here at home all day, with all your books?" Buffy asked, curious. "Or even watching TV?" She stood there, sword by her side, looking at her Watcher. She was getting a little worried for him, frankly. At least at Sunnydale High he'd had the other teachers to socialize with, even if he couldn't tell anyone the truth, especially after Ms. Calendar had died...

Then there was his... friend, Olivia, but Buffy hadn't seen her at his place in a long time either.

Basically, she was worried her Watcher was getting a bit lonely for company his age.

You know. Other old people.

"I watch a little bit of public television, and occasionally BBC America!" Giles shot back, defensively. "I don't sit around, wasting my whole day watching the blasted thing!"

"Methinks you doth protest too much," Buffy replied, quoting one of the few bits of Shakespeare she actually had memorized. Well, mostly quoting, anyway.

"Really, Buffy, you read Hamlet in your senior year of high school - and, and _that'_ s what you retained from the whole play?" Giles facepalmed, shaking his head. "And you got it wrong, by the way. The original line was 'the lady doth protest too much, methinks', you shouldn't say it backwards like that." He scoffed and shook his head. "Americans."

"Eh, whatever. It was a pretty boring read, actually," Buffy pointed out, rolling her eyes. She remembered a few other bits and pieces from it, but no actual lines, beyond the whole 'to be or not to be' that everyone knew.

"It was- Buffy, Hamlet is the greatest of all of William Shakespeare's plays! His ultimate masterpiece-!" Giles sputtered for a moment, then shook his head. "You're doing this on purpose, aren’t you?"

"Well, I didn't really like it, but... yeah," Buffy admitted. She was kinda messing with him; she’d had to read one Shakespeare play every year during high school - Midsummer's Night's Dream, Macbeth, The Merchant of Venice and Hamlet. She hadn't really liked any of them, but all things considered, Hamlet had been the most boring. 

_Just kill the evil uncle and move on, already!_

Smiling a little, Buffy lifted up her sword again and waited for Giles to get ready.

"There's, um, really not much more I can teach you regarding the art of the sword, you know," Giles admitted. "You've improved remarkably over the last year with, with the use of a blade."

"And yet, you still occasionally beat me," Buffy pointed out. "So you've still got the skill advantage. And I figure sooner or later, I’m gonna run into something faster than me, _and_ with more... sword-swinging-skill than I have."

_Like these 'Legion of Necessity' types._ Buffy had no idea how much stronger or faster than her the things coming after Xander were, but she was going to assume they were tougher than the average vampire with a sword.

"Swordsmanship," Giles corrected absently. Buffy thrust out towards him, trying to control it better, and this time, she managed to avoid overextending, but Giles still managed to block her at the last minute - switching hands for his sword to catch the blade, then pushing it back and stepping away.

Buffy swung again, moving a little faster this time, and she caught Giles's sword just above the handle, nearly knocking it from his grip. He tried to swing back, but Buffy blocked easily, and then she darted forward, ducking under another swing, and 'stabbed' Giles in the stomach, pulling short at the last second.

"And I'm dead again," Giles conceded, bowing slightly and stepping back. He took off his glasses, pulled a small cloth from his pocket and started to clean them. "And in answer to your, ah, earlier question...well, truthfully, I-I _have_ actually started to get somewhat bored, in recent months," he admitted.   
  


"Well. Perhaps 'stir-crazy' might be a more appropriate term," Giles corrected himself after a moment, tilting his head from side to side as he did so. 

He settled his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. 

"What are you going to do, then, if not a librarian job?" Buffy asked, curious. There _was_ a local museum in Sunnydale, but somehow, she couldn't see Giles working there. 

"I'm not altogether certain. Once I've decided, I'll be sure to let you know," Giles assured her. He brought up his sword again. "Another go?"

"And then another one after that," Buffy nodded. "Gotta practice."

**June 19th, 2000**

**Crawford Street Mansion, Sunnydale**

No one was really sure what to do with Spike or Drusilla these days.

The plans the Scooby Gang had had for the two vampires hadn't extended past 'get the necessary information out of them' - and so now they had two ensouled vampires, one still borderline suicidal, to deal with.

Spike's assurance that sex alone wasn't enough for a moment of perfect happiness for either himself or Drusilla aside, there had been a great deal of hemming and hawwing about letting the two lovers spend time together unsupervised. But Amy had argued that they couldn't just keep Spike a prisoner forever, now that he had a soul, and it certainly did no good for Drusilla's mental health to keep her caged up and alone.

The latter argument hadn't really moved anyone, granted, except for Willow or Tara. 

Still, everyone had eventually agreed - grudgingly, in Buffy and Faith's case - just under two weeks ago to let Spike move into the old Crawford Street mansion, with Drusilla. Amy, along with Willow and Tara, had set up wards around the building that would alert them if either of the vampires left - so technically they were still prisoners, but at least the cage was now bigger and less obvious. 

Wesley delivered them blood every few days, now that they had had a steady supply of otter and vole to mix with the standard pig, and pestered them both with questions. From what Wesley had said, he wasn't getting much in the way of answers from either of them.

Amy, for her part, came by strictly for Drusilla’s sake.

Amy’s efforts to find a spell that would let Drusilla feel her emotions in a more muted way had failed, despite her best efforts, leaving the crazed vampiress hanging by a thread. She was somewhat coherent, and not lingering every second of every day on her 'sin' and how she needed to be punished, but...

Yeah. Drusilla still did linger sometimes.

As for Spike - well, he seemed more or less the same as he’d ever been, from what everyone was saying. Maybe a _little_ less of a jackass in terms of attitude, but only just. Having a soul didn't seem to have changed his personality much at all, which really made Amy wonder how Angel's personality was so different from that of Angelus...

_Maybe Spike just isn't a broody sort of person?_ That was probably it - Spike just didn't feel the need to linger on his guilt. 

_Or maybe he just doesn't feel any. A soul doesn't automatically make you a good person, after all._

But on the other hand, Spike had done nothing bad so far. Then again... he couldn't. 

He was still ‘neutered’, he still had that anti-violence chip in his head...

Shaking her head, Amy reached the front door of the mansion and knocked on the cheap replacement doors Xander had installed in the previously empty entryway. 

"Go away, Percy, you poncy git!" Spike’s accented voice snapped on the other side of the door. 

"I'm not Wesley, Spike," Amy called out, turning the door handle and stepping inside. 

She saw how Spike was sitting on a cheap-looking sofa, next to Drusilla. The dark-haired vampiress was holding one of her creepy dolls, staring sort of blankly ahead, with Spike gently rubbing her back. 

Spike glared at her a moment, then he stood up, walking over to her. He gestured for her to join him over in the far corner of the building. “What is it?”

"I take it Wes was here earlier?" Amy asked quietly, and Spike nodded, pulling a cigarette and his lighter out of his coat pocket.

"Bloody git dropped off some more blood, decided he wanted to pester Dru about her memories of what she did - how she remembers it now, all that rot." Spike shook his head. "Set her to tears in a minute, only just got her calmed down, she's still stuck inside her head. Like I said - complete bloody git."

"I could ask Faith to tell Wes to stop asking you two questions?" Amy suggested. "If that would help?" She understood why Wesley wanted to ask the two vampires questions, and he had been helpful in giving her more information and context to work with regarding Drusilla, but still. If he was making things worse...

"Ya reckon that ruddy berk would actually listen to yer girlfriend? S’not like _she_ takes orders from _him_ ," Spike pointed out, sticking his cigarette in between his lips and lighting it. He took a long drag, then turned his head to the side to exhale the smoke, away from her.

_Appreciate that_. Not that she couldn't still smell the cigarette smoke. _Hecate knows_ _I get enough of that from Faith._ Okay, to be fair, her girlfriend didn't smoke as much lately, nor around her, but still. And Amy wasn't that bothered by it, at the end of the day. 

At least not enough to make an issue out of it, anyway.

_It’s not like Spike is gonna die from lung cancer. And Faith will just remind me how there's no chance she's going to live long enough for that sort of thing to matter, and I_ ** _really_** _don't like thinking about that._

Amy swallowed, as the very thought came back to the forefront of her mind, and she looked away as well, taking a deep breath.

And then immediately regretted it at the taste of tobacco-filled air on her tongue. She coughed, clearing her throat. 

Spike just watched her, a wry smirk briefly appearing on his face - before taking another drag on his cigarette and blowing smoke away from her, again.

"Um... well, Wes doesn't take orders from Faith, yeah...but she could bribe him. Y’know, the same way he bribes her." Faith had gotten her Watcher to buy her a Playstation 2 last week, on pre-order. Apparently they'd made a bet, which she'd lost, but then Faith had managed to bribe Wes with enough promises of 'good behavior' to get him to buy her the game system anyway.

"I mean... I can't promise I could get her to do anything that would make Wesley leave Drusilla alone, but..." she shrugged helplessly. "I could try, at least. If you want."

Spike seemed to ponder her words, then shook his head. "Nah, don’t bother. Percy might be annoying as hell, but sometimes..." The vampire shook his head again, "...well, seems like Dru does a little better, after talkin' about it." 

"How is she doing, overall?" Amy asked, looking past Spike to peer over at the other vampire - she was still sitting there, staring blankly, though after a moment Amy realized she was rocking slightly back and forth in her chair.

"How the hell do ya _think_?" Spike snapped, then added, quieter: "Not good, same as always." He gestured around himself, "Being cooped up in ‘ere all the effin’ time doesn't help, either."

"Um, yeah. I do have an idea on that - or at least, part of one?" Amy started to say, hesitantly. "The others... they're not sure they can trust you. Hell, _I'm_ not sure we can trust you," Amy clarified, "But maybe you could go on patrol with... well, I guess it would have to be Faith. Somehow, I don't think Buffy would ever want to patrol with you." The number of times Spike had escaped being dusted by her seemed to have left Buffy very aggressive where William the Bloody was concerned, even though it had been her idea to ensoul the vampire in the first place.

"Not sure I want to patrol with your barmy girlfriend, either," Spike countered in annoyance, and Amy closed her eyes and let out a long sigh.

"Call Faith crazy again, and the offer's gone," Amy replied, coldly. "Look, I get that you don't like her, and she doesn't like _you_ either. But my girlfriend is as sane as you and I are."

"Not exactly a ringing endorsement there, luv," Spike chuckled, and Amy rolled her eyes. "So, what, I help Faith kill vamps and demons - and you lot agree to let us leave this place, at least sometimes?" 

"Something like that, yeah," Amy nodded. "Build up some trust. You're one of the good guys now, at least technically, so I figure you can showcase that and - well, we might as well get _some_ use out of you." She pursed her lips. "Only question is... can you leave Drusilla alone for a few hours, every few nights?"

Spike looked back at his lady love, then back to Amy. Eventually he nodded, "Some nights, maybe. Especially if you were around ta talk to her during some of those times. Keep her company."

Amy's first reaction was to say no - she hated to cut into her time when she could patrol with Faith, but since she probably wouldn't have much fun playing referee between Spike and Faith either...

"Okay," Amy nodded. "I can do that."

"One more thing. I want some music in ‘ere."

"Music?" Amy stared, confused by the sudden change of topic.

"Yeah. Gramophone, battery-powered turntable, whatever. See, last night, Dru was talkin’ about wanting ta dance. Tried to, but she said without music, just wasn't right fer us to do it. So get us a stereo or damn boombox or something, not ta mention some CDs or cassettes. I'd ask for the Watcher's records -"

"Yeah, no, I don't think Giles would let you have his record player - and they're pretty thin on the ground these days otherwise," Amy cut in, shaking her head. "What kind of music would Drusilla prefer?"

"Something instrumental, some Classical... I dunno, maybe some Baroque," Spike answered musingly, and listed off a few composers. It was rather weird hearing those names coming from Spike, given his crude Cockney accent... but from what Wesley had told her, his 'poor man’s East Ender' routine was mostly just an affectation, since William Pratt had been a fairly well-educated young man back when he'd been turned.

"I'll see what I can do," Amy promised. She then walked around past Spike towards Drusilla and crouched a little, to look the insane woman in the eyes. Drusilla reacted by looking away, and Amy shook her head.

"Drusilla, look at me, please?" Amy asked gently, and the vampire slowly tilted her head back upwards. 

"Little witch, little witch, come to play again?" Drusilla murmured the question.

"If you want," Amy nodded. "Why don't we talk for a bit?" She sat down on the sofa where Spike had been sitting before. 

"Talking, always talking, plenty of words left to say," Drusilla sing-songed. "You've got songbirds and li’l mice floatin’ all around yer ‘ead, d’you know that?" She frowned, "But no fairy godmother ever came. ‘Specially when naughty mummy played ‘er nasty tricks..."

Amy took a slow, deep breath. "No, no fairy godmother for me," she agreed. "Sometimes, a woman just has to try to do it all herself- and sometimes, there's people there to help you." 

Amy still wished she could find a simple magical solution to help Drusilla out, but since she'd failed at that? She was determined to put in the hard work, and do what she could to help Drusilla get better.

As better as she could be, anyway.


End file.
